Dying Flame
by huggablelove
Summary: The fight was what they dealt with, and they dealt with it well. But when Loki is no longer the enemy, but the reason they're fighting, can they do it? Can they face off a worryingly familiar face, more crazed than the demi-god? Alone... no. But allied with another team, fighting a similar cause... Features the Fantastic Four. Slash.
1. No Mercy

**A/N  
I will write an Avengers fic I'm happy with. I swear I will.**

Such a nice day. Why today? But then, it always started on a nice day. Taking a walk in the morn, basking in the sunrays, and by the time the clock has struck twelve, it's hand to hand combat with alien, and human, psychopaths, firing arrows at crazed armies, and just generally kicking ass however they possibly could.

So it never came to a surprise to Steve Rodgers: not any more, anyway. The super soldier had seen far too many a strange phenomenon to say anything was a surprise anymore. Heck, when he first woke from his sleep, a toaster was a surprise, and the ringing of a cell phone. So when he'd gone up against his first alien army, well, that had been a surprise too. Not much of one. He'd already been on a flying ship, met two Gods despite being raised to believe there was only one, and seen a timid scientist who kept to himself out of fear of rejection mutate into the angriest, biggest thing he'd ever seen. But now, a psychopath was the norm. If they didn't get one for a few weeks, well, that was what scared him. So Steve wasn't surprised when today turned into yet another memorable day. It just didn't start the same way his memorable days normally did.

Steve Rodgers was out jogging, a habit he'd developed to combat his constant high energy levels the serum had gifted him with. Unlike other joggers, though, Steve didn't simply run around parks. Such a route was too short to occupy his mind and challenge him. No, Steve had JARVIS calculate his routes beforehand, and relay the information through an earpiece Tony had taught him how to use. He'd often end up miles away from Avengers Tower, previously Stark Tower, before turning around and today was no different. It seemed this time, JARVIS had mixed up the route a little for him, new scenery, and Steve appreciated it, especially when the AI led him to abandoned areas, free of civilians, so he could let of some steam, and usually end up demolishing something or other. On his bad days, it was frequently a building. Luckily for him, he'd ended up in an old, rundown retail park, and he smiled. With the sun beating down, it couldn't have been a better day to find an old, rundown retail park.

Punch after punch was landed on walls, obliterating them, leaving holes as aftermath. Steve could feel the sweat running down his face, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. This was what he needed so desperately: to push himself to the limits and beyond. When he managed such a feat, he felt like he was something, like he belonged, because in this century, he was the contrary. He was a man out of time and a man out of place.

His fists throbbed and the sun burnt, but he refused to stop, the brick walls crumbling in front of him, a representation of his anger, his built up emotions, just spilling out through his fists. Most of them were often down to Tony, the arrogant prick. The man was just so self-obsessed, that even those times when he disregarded his own life, when he put himself in the line of danger didn't outshine his true egotistical nature.

Steve wondered if any of his teammates knew how he released his anger, how he always stayed so calm around Tony, or when Fury announced there was another megalomaniac on the loose, or when Thor accidently demolished yet another building SHIELD would have to pay for, because he decided to swing his hammer, or Mjolnir as Thor insisted it was called, around.

He became so wrapped up in thoughts that he barely heard the shrill scream slicing through the air, followed by curse after insult after mockery.

"Did you really think you could run? HIDE?" Steve shuddered at the voice as his fists came to rest, but still balled up. Deep, and very god damn menacing. And oh so angry. Clearly the voice despised whomever it was talking to intensely, and Steve felt his instincts taking over his mind, as he began to run to the source of the scream. Where that was, he didn't know, he just knew he was running towards it.

"What, you thought you could fool us? Do you think there's someone still out there who gives a bloody DAMN ABOUT YOU? SOMEONE WHO CARES FOR YOU? Don't kid yourself, son. No-body loves you. No-one ever did." Steve was so close, he could hear the sound of a punch, or a slap, or just something painful. And he was so close, he heard the pained whimper, the desperate cry out for the help. His nails dug into his palms as he squeezed his fists tighter, not even bothering to find the door. He'd make his own way in. Because he couldn't wait. That could be a civilian. And it most definitely was something in pain, who needed help, who needed _him_.

Steve pulled his fist back as the wall came ever closer, and threw the punch forward, bracing himself as his arm jarred from the impact. But it worked. There was a hole. He moved back a bit, and threw himself at the wall, sideward on. The wall gave away, the bricks scattering around, and Steve stumbled through the newly formed hole, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"Oh, look, and here comes _Captain America_." The menacing voice hissed, mockery dripping of Steve's superhero alter-ego name. "And guess what. If he knew who you were, and what you'd done, he'd just turn around, and walk away. Or maybe watch. But he wouldn't help you. Nobody will help you. Not when they know who you are, when they find out." Steve watched in horror as his vision cleared up, the taunter clad in a rather fancy looking suit, definitely a fitted suit, the victim barely conscious. It's face, it's whole body, was covered in bruises and cuts and blood, some fresh and some dried. His hair lay matted, some stuck onto his forehead, but for the life of him, Steve couldn't tell what colour it was. The victim sat, bare-chest, hands bound behinds his back, whimpering, shivering, and something primal that Steve hadn't felt in a long time surfaced, as he let his heart take over, releasing strikes upon the twisted abuser. It was far more therapeutic than punching walls, and Steve felt no regret as the monster lay cold out on the floor. He deserved it.

Steve wasted no time in rushing over to the victim, his hands working on the ropes, tugging at the knots. Steve's breathing had begun to level again after the rush of adrenaline, but the same couldn't be said for the victim, whose breathing grew more shallow and distant as the seconds passed. Steve noticed the odd angle at which the man's leg was bent, and realised that was where the scream had come from. He'd had his leg broken.

"Hey, hey. Look at me. You're going to be okay, I swear. Nobody's going to hurt you now, you're safe now…" The man lifted his head slightly, wide eyed and bruised, and as his gaze met Steve's, a flash of pure, childlike fear crossed his blue, blue eyes before they rolled back, and he collapsed into Steve's arms.


	2. Pain

**A/N  
So yeah, if you guys could drop reviews, like what you think, how to improve, that would be so amazing. And thank you for all the favourites and everything so far, it means a lot. I'm just really trying to improve my creative writing skills, and any help you can give would be awesome, even if it's just one word. Thanks.**

"JARVIS? JARVIS!" Steve cradled the limp body in his arms, shouting desperately for the AI to respond. Normally, he wouldn't panic this much, but that was in battle. He'd never dealt with the aftermath of the battle or conflict before, SHIELD would always usher him away before he could begin to search for someone, anyone who had been injured, caught in their bloody brawls.

"Yes, sir?" Steve wrapped his arms around, one supporting his shoulders, and one, particularly delicately, under his knees, as if he were carrying a sleeping child. It was only then he noticed just how thin and frail this person was. His clothes hung off him, dirty and torn, mostly red as his blood. It horrified Steve: he'd seen prisoners of war before, those who had suffered at the hands of the pain-hungry, those who had undergone torture, and it left the strongest of men crying out. And this was nothing like what Steve had seen before. It was worse.

"Put me through to Tony. If he refuses, override protocol with the Avengers Initiative protocol, and get me whoever responds first." His tone was monotonous, firm, reminiscent of who he used to be, leading brave men into battles with hope in their breasts and patriotism in their minds. Most of them died.

"What is it, Capsicle? Has the modern day baffled the old man again?" Any other time, and Steve would have retorted somehow, but right now, he held a dying man limp in his arms, and it wasn't the time for what Fury liked to refer to as 'fucking homoerotic banter'. He just gritted his teeth and pursed his lips to stop the retaliating insult from escaping.

"Tony, I need you to scramble your fastest jet, and get to my co-ordinates. Bring Banner, I need a doctor down here." Steve was beginning to worry. Whomever this man was, he'd lost a hell of a lot of blood, and looked as if he'd been dragged to hell and back, numerous times over, through barbed wires and no man's land. And that only served to bring back unpleasant memories to the supersoldier's mind, thoughts he'd tried to banish away long ago, tried to lock away in casket and throw away the key.

"Back up, Steve," Tony's voice crackled into his ear. "What the hell is going on? Are you hurt? Do you want the whole team assembled, or-"

"Tony, do I need to shout Avengers Assemble and piss off Fury to get you to get your ass down here, or will you and Banner hurry up? I don't have time to argue with you, or explain. Just hurry up, now." Steve had lost his leash on his normally polite vocabulary, an effect of the 21st century, he suspected. And yet, Steve couldn't care, because if it was going to get Tony moving, then he'd do it. He wasn't prepared to let someone die because a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist was _cocky_.

"Uh, sure thing, Cap. We'll be there in a second. Just hang on. Hold tight, whatever's going on…" His voice faded, until a dull hum took his place, continuing monotonously. Steve blocked it out of his mind, his sole focus being on the man in his arms. He eyes flicked over the other's body, pulling out the worst cuts, the worst breaks, and he moved towards his hole in the wall, propping the man against the wall in the light. Steve ran his fingers lightly over the other's torso, applying slight pressure, trying to find breaks and fractures. Three broken ribs, two fractured. He ran his hands over his arms, squeezing ever so slightly. Broken left arm. He began to tear strips of fabric from his own top, ignoring the heat pounding on his own bare skin, and bandaged around the deepest gashes, desperately trying to stop some of the blood loss. The makeshift blue bandages didn't have much effect, the blood soaking through them almost immediately, so Steve began to create secondary bandages, wrapping them on top of the others. The remnants of his top were little, but he draped it over the other man anyway, knowing it'd protect him from the sunlight, even if only a little. He was so pale, ghastly white, and Steve could've swore he'd seen him somewhere before.

It was whilst Steve was tightening the bandages that the man's eyes shot open, flickering around, barely conscious but completely terrified. His gaze came to rest upon the large, and rather stunned supersoldier, who just watched in confusion, until the man's breathing grew heavy, and he started to cower away as best a broken person could, shrinking from Steve's view.

"Please… Please don't hurt me… I didn't mean it!" He shouted, voice dry and raspy, and yet, clearly, very panicked. Steve could've sworn his heart was being torn apart, watching someone so fearful of everything, _anything. _"They made me… I didn't want to… Please, don't hurt me!" There was a single, petrified tear running down his face, before the man's head dropped once more, hitting the floor. Steve gaped, open-mouthed. So it definitely wasn't a civilian.

The next thing Steve remembered was Tony's hand clasp onto his bare shoulder, trying to pull him away as Bruce rushed past. Tony couldn't bear to look at the man: it brought back far too many memories of Afghanistan for him, memories that would taunt him at night and leave him jumpy and exhausted in the morning. He always told people it was because he hadn't had his coffee yet. People just accepted the lie.

"Steve. Steve! Look at me, god damn it! What happened? Who the hell is that? And why the hell have I got a nagging feeling I should know who that is…" Steve turned slowly to face him, his expression still one of shock. At how someone could be so inhumane and sick. Nobody deserved that, not even the megalomaniacs they dealt with on a regular basis.

"I don't know, Tony. But while you were flying over, he regained consciousness." Tony watched him, one eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Only for a short period of time," Steve added rather quickly, "But he just kept begging me not to hurt him. Like he was scared of me, the man who'd just saved him. An- And the first time he saw me, the look of pure fear on his face. Tony, I don't know who he is, at least I don't think I do, but I think I should do." Tony nodded at him slowly, not really sure how to respond to him. He was rather thankful for Bruce's interruption.

"Guys, we need to get him on board now, and back to our medical wing. I can't work on him here, and if he's got any chance of surviving, I need proper equipment." The supersoldier was quick to his feet, eager to help in any way he could to distract his mind. Tony followed, not quite so quickly afterward, the subject of just whom this was plaguing his mind.


	3. Desert

**A/N  
Slightly longer chapter today guys, just because :) Thank you a ton for all the reviews, they really do make me happy, and want to write to my best ability for you guys, so please, keep reviewing, and thank you everyone who favourited and subscribed! Next chapter will see the return of the friendly resident God of Thunder. And just so you know, although I support Stony, I also support Captain Mischief (what a damn amazing couple name) so if that isn't your thing, I'm sorry, and this won't be exceeding a T rating. I can read an M rated (just about), but I'm far too innocent at heart to write one. Yet.**

"How bad is it, Bruce?" Tony asked as the helicopter hummed into action. Bruce knelt down beside the body, Steve perched beside him, ready tom move at the slightest request for help from either Bruce or Tony. He fiddled with his fingers as Bruce unravelled the make-shift bandages, soaked through, and wrapped his own around the wounds, as tight as possible without causing discomfort to whomever it was who lay before them.

"I don't know, Tony. I really don't know. He's in a pretty bad way; he's been with whoever the hell had him for weeks, maybe longer. I wouldn't be surprised if x-rays revealed a maze of hair-line fractures. Some of these wounds are old, re-opened. Look here," he pointed one out, and Steve's gaze shifted to where he was pointing, a deep red gash crossing over his shoulder. "You can see where it was starting to scar around the edges. It was cut open again." Steve felt sickened, a new wave of anger crashing down on him.

"Wait, Tony. Have you got any cuffs on board? Or anything?" At Steve's question, a blush began to rise in Tony's cheeks, and the billionaire pretended he hadn't heard the question. The scientist next to Steve sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Under the back seat, it the blue pouch." He groaned, and Tony twisted around immediately, his eyes darting nervously back and forth between Bruce and Steve, the later of whom was now rummaging underneath said chair, until he found the blue pouch. The zipped moved agonizingly slow for Tony, and he blushed even more when Steve pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Or more specifically, a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs.

Steve glanced at them, then at the billionaire, pursing his lips, and realised it'd probably be better for his sanity if he didn't ask why on earth Tony had a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs on board his helicopter. And why Bruce knew where they- oh. Oh. Okay. Their choice. No matter how completely peculiar Steve found it, it was their choice. Steve had nothing against homosexuality, in fact, having loved someone himself, it was one of the aspects of 21st century thinking he'd been able to grapple rather easily. He knew how it felt to be loved and to love, and in love, to him, it didn't matter who it was shared with. Because at the end of the day, it was love. It still made him feel incredibly awkward, so he made a swift exit, headed back towards the hole, cuffs in hand.

It wasn't too hard to find the unconscious monster, and Steve took pleasure with each click of the cuffs, knowing that whilst he was in these and in Steve's view, there was no way on earth he was going to hurt anyone else. He threw the man over his shoulder with ease, and hauled him back on board the helicopter. Steve dropped him into the back seat, and noticed the blood on his hands. The blood on both of their hands.

Tony would have commented how stupid the twisted creature looked in pink fluffy handcuffs, had they not been his. But they were his, and so all his mocking comments stayed within his head for once, as he set JARVIS on autopilot back to Avengers Tower. "What do you plan on doing with him, Cap?" He asked, trying to diffuse his earlier embarrassment from the atmosphere. He saw how Steve rung his hands, rubbing away at the dried blood on them. The supersoldier had never coped well with hurting people, no matter they'd done, and no matter what he'd convinced himself otherwise.

"Hand him straight over to SHIELD. I refuse to have anything to do with him. I'll just punch him again every time he speaks, or moves. SHIELD is better suited for this type of thing." Steve barely paid any attention to his surroundings: the blood on his hands just brought back everything he had ever done, every time he'd seen someone die, every time he'd been forced to attack. It didn't affect him as much now, fighting, because he still believed what he'd said so many years ago: 'I don't want to kill anyone. I don't like bullies, I don't care where they're from'. He lived by that idea ever since the start, but it still hurt him emotionally the first few times, and he still remembered the first few times. It was always the pain he remembered, never his successes and the moments he outshone what people believed him to be.

"SHIELD will want to know why we're handing him over, and until I know more, I don't feel comfy telling them anything. I still don't trust them. Only ever trusted Coulson, and well, yeah." Tony sighed, the memories of Phil coming back, how he'd never truly got to know Phil, and now it was too late. "I reckon we should just dump him in the middle of the desert. Or the sea, your pick." Bruce let an exasperated groan, and turned to Tony, the look of a parent dealing with a spoilt, ignorant child on his face.

"How many times, Tony? You can't just drop people off in the middle of nowhere, no matter how much you dislike them. It's just not something you can do!" Bruce turned back towards the unconscious victim. "Have you got any needles on here, Tony? And any surgical sutures?" Bruce was focused on one cut in particular, and wanted to be able to close it up as quickly as possible.

"Uh, no. I don't normally carry a surgery with me. This stuff doesn't happen every day." Bruce rapped his fingers against the chair, and Steve sat scratching away at his hands, trying to get rid of the blood.

"Okay, Steve, I'm going to need you to put pressure on this cut then. How much further, Tony?" Steve slipped himself through the small space, and followed Bruce's actions, pressing down as hard as he could on the cut without breaking anything else, whilst Tony tapped into the helicopter, fingers moving quickly across the buttons.

"Just over a minute. I'm going to land this baby manually, now. Might speed things up a little." There was a slight jolt as Tony took over the controls, and began to lower the helicopter, Avengers Tower in sight. Steve watched the pale man with worry in his eyes, as a new layer of blood began to coat his hands, marking him as a killer, a fighter. He didn't like it.

"Just hang in there," he murmured under his breath as Bruce worked away, tightening bandages and applying pressure himself on other gashes, of which were numerous across his body. Without even thinking, Steve let one of his hands run over the man's matted, sandy hair, still pressing down with the other. It just seemed appropriate, like the right thing for him to do at that point in time. His hand followed the hair down the side of the bruised face, and down the darkened neck, just touching on the bloodied shoulders, and he snatched his hand back, realising just what he'd done. He glanced around, eyes flicking between Bruce, Tony, and the unnamed man, and he let out a breath of relief as neither Tony nor Bruce had appeared to have noticed.

The helicopter jolted as Tony landed it, and he almost jumped out of his seat when Natasha and Clint appeared at the opening, the latter looking rather worried. Natasha was blank, like normal Natasha. To her, emotion was a weakness, and once someone saw it, like too many a time before in her life, they would manipulate it and hurt her.

"Cap, what's going on? Who is _that_?" Clint asked rather pointedly, his gaze fixed upon the man in cuffs. "And why the hell is he in pink, fluffy cuffs? Did I miss out on a kink fest or something?" An element of humour was present in his voice, a vain attempt to lighten the apparently dim situation. Natasha jabbed him in the side with her elbow, her gaze fixed on the pale man Bruce was tending to.

"He," Tony answered, "is a sick bastard who I'm not allowed to drop in the desert, or the oceans, despite the fact that he was _torturing_our other guest here senseless. I have no bloody clue what to do with him. I don't want to hand him to Fury, they'll just ask questions, and probably get their dirty hands our injured chap here, and I sure as hell don't want him in my… our tower. Psychopaths, why not, but not torturers." Natasha remained as emotionless as ever, but Steve saw a little of his current mind set emerging in Clint.

"Clint, can you help me and Bruce take this chap down to our medical wing? He needs to get stitched up as quickly as possible, to stop blood loss. Tony, you and Nat can argue out where to drop our friendly jerk over there." Clint nodded, and moved in between Steve and Bruce, wrapping his arms gently around the person's midsection, as Steve took the head, and Bruce held the legs, taking extra care. As they were rushing off, Clint heard Nat, in a rather sadistically happy tone, say to Tony:

"Personally, I agree with you for the first time. Dump him in the desert, and make him suffer. He doesn't deserve sympathy."


	4. Eyes

**A/N**

**The end isn't intended as slash, but as genuine concern and sorrow. Also, although I will try, I can't guarantee a chapter every day. I'm sorry. And now, massive thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and subscribed. It really means the world to me, it does, and it fills me with confidence in this fanfic. All reviews, favourites and subscribes are appreciated massively, and they're like an author's food, so please, do carry on :)**

Bruce was stitching up the last few cuts when he felt a hand grasping tightly around his wrist, and a pair of pained, frightened eyes watching him. Bruce was more than a little stunned, as the man was supposedly heavily sedated. yet here he was, watching Bruce anxiously with pained blue eyes.

The moment Bruce moved, the other occupant of the room tried to push himself away, only tearing some of his stitches as a result. As the broken ribs shifted, a whimper escaped his lips, and he watched Bruce with wide eyes, trying to hide away from him. It was vague memory, pain clouded everything, but last time he saw Bruce, he got hurt. That was enough to make him want to run. It'd only be worse this time, verbal and physical, all carried out with a disturbingly twisted smile atop his face.

"P-please… Please don't hurt me… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, pl-please don't hurt me…" Bruce watched as the man shrunk backwards toward the end of the bed, and he offered him a hand in comfort. He saw as the man only panicked further, his breathing growing short and heavy. The scientist glanced around quickly, taking note of the camera in the corner. He perched himself on the edge on the bed, and glanced across at the other in the room, before shifting his gaze towards the floor.

"I'm not here to hurt you…" he offered out soothingly, his voice deliberately slow and calm. There was some things he'd learnt best to do whilst conversing with a patient. "I'm here to help you… See?" Bruce slowly moved closer, and pointed out one of the larger cuts, tracing his finger gently across it. The man sad rigidly, barely even breathing as Bruce neared him, but he watched the path of the scientist's finger anyway, running gently over the gash. He remembered that one. The pain. The agonising pain. And he only remembered the worst ones, the others were too insignificant in comparison. But still painful.

"Th-there's no point. They'll have gone by tonight. The r-ribs will only take a few days. J-Just leave me be, I beg." He stammered, Bruce watching him all the time, a glint of concern in his eye. Beg, the other thought, has been such an overused word. And it never, ever works. Bruce sighed, conflicted. Legally, if the patient objected, he wasn't allowed to carry on, but morally, he couldn't leave the man like this, broken and torn by the hands of others.

"Are you sure? At least let us clothe you, feed you." The words struck a chord within the man's mind, and he began to panic again, trying to put as much distance between them as he possibly could in his current state. They'd tried this trick many a time; lull him into a false sense of security, make him feel cared for and loved, playing upon his biggest weakness, and then it just started over again, the impact as raw as the first time he was struck out of anger and revenge. Sometimes they posed as friends, loved ones, and other times, friendly strangers desperate to help. It just drove the stake deeper. Nobody cares.

Bruce backed away worriedly as the man began to mumble whimpered pleas, ineligible, but desperate. He didn't want to leave him, but as the scientist grew anxious, he felt his heartbeat starting to rise, and he knew it would only lead to worse, frightening the traumatised person even more. He felt his hand, outstretched behind him, hit the wall, and he turned swiftly, fumbling for the doorknob. It pressed against his palm, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pushing until he could escape the room.

The scientist stumbled out and came face to face with Tony, and he offered a weak grin up as Tony flustered for the second time that day. As his 'friend' backed away, he noticed all his teammates, barring Thor, gathered around the room, looking towards him.

"So?" Clint prompted, the concern clear in his eyes. The same could be said for them all, even Natasha to a certain extent.

"He woke up mid-procedure, and refused to let me carry on. Insisted he'd heal himself. Whatever he went through, hell, it traumatised him. The moment he saw me, he started having some kind of panic attack, and I couldn't calm him. I would've stayed, but, you know, high heart rate, ect…" Bruce shuffled uncomfortably, rather nervous under the gaze analytical stares of all his team mates.

"Guys. Am I the only one seeing this? There's something, different, about him. He should, technically, be dead. He has the traumatic response of someone who's been through a lot, and I mean a lot. A hell of a lot more than what his injuries suggest. And that's saying something. And he woke up, just woke up, whilst he was meant to be heavily sedated." Silence fell after Tony's point, the statement being considered by each individual.

"I'll go check in with Xavier, see if all his 'mutants' are accounted for." The disgust at the word 'mutants' was clear in Steve's voice: not disgust toward the group it addressed, but toward the derogatory term used to address them. Steve began to walk off towards the conference room, when Clint stepped forward.

"I'll ask Reed if he's heard or seen anything odd as of late." Natasha just watched as Clint walked off, a blank canvas of a face, but underneath, she smiled, watching his every step. Complicated relationship it certainly was.

She glanced around the remaining few, and ran a hand through her red locks, pushing them out of her face. The thumps from the room ahead worried her; of course they worried her. She might wear the façade of an emotionless machine, but she was more than that, and she did possess feelings too, no matter what anyone might say or believe.

"What if he's one of Thor's kind? Thor heals faster than human, and apparently, so does he. Thor's bigger than most humans, and look at him. So is he. I'm just making a point, but there are definitely correlations between the two of them…" A look of complete horror dawned upon Tony's face at Natasha's point, and Bruce looked at her, his head nodding ever so slightly.

"You mean that he could be another hammer-wielding, socially-inept, ye olde English speaker from another realm? That's all we need! One Asgardian is enough!" Tony almost jumped when a deep laugh erupted from behind, and he just sighed, hitting himself on the head as the God of Thunder walked up beside him, beaming with Mjolnir in hand.

"You do amuse me so, friend Tony." Tony rubbed his hands over his face, groaning at his impeccably bad timing. "But I understand not why you refer to me in this conversation. Enlighten me on the context, son of Stark?" Bruce just snorted, covering his mouth with his hands as the oversized Asgardian looked downwards to Tony expectantly, like a puppy after a bone.

"I-It doesn't matter, Thor. Any luck in your search this time?" Thor shook his head, the beginnings of sorrow apparent in his eyes. Bags hung under them, and Tony could see the constant worry and endless searching was taking it's toll on the Asgardian.

"My search for Loki has hit yet another dead end. Upon suggestions of rumours of the realms, I reconnoitred the land of Jotuhnheim, yet, alas, not even the stormy-eyed hope presented itself to me. I am beginning to fear my brother is lost for good, this time." Thor's eyes flickered over to the room ahead at yet another thump from it, his grip on Mjolnir tightening ever so slightly. "If I be not mistaken, either friends Clint and Steve are training in there, or, we have a guest present."

"A guest." Tony muttered, rather bluntly. He didn't waste his breath explaining, the concept of torture probably wasn't one Thor would understand. Bruce had decided to take more of a backseat role, observing instead of interacting with the others.

"Tony, maybe Thor could help us. Tell us if he is one of hi-"

"You believe he is of Asgard, fair Natasha? Then I request to see whomever may reside with those walls." Bruce's eyes flickered between Natasha and Tony, a silent conversation passing between them, watching how Tony frowned at Natasha, with an eyebrow arched questioningly, and she responded with a slight nod of the head, and a rather intimidating glint in her eye.

"I guess it's better than just waiting for Captain Spandex and Bird Brain to get back." There was slight audible hiss from Natasha, but Tony continued on, un-wavered by the unspoken threat. "Come on then, big guy. I'd suggest you leave your beloved hammer out here so you don't scare the shit out of him." Thor tilted his head to the side slightly, then merely let go of Mjolnir, the erupting sound from the collision making Tony jump. "What the actual hell!"

"I do apologise, friend Tony. I forget sometimes how puny you mortal's floors are, and mistake them for having the strength of the marble lining the great halls of Odin." Bruce was in stitches now, as Tony rubbed his face, muttering something along the lines of "This better not be another bloody Asgardian." Even Natasha let a grin grace her lips.

Tony didn't even bother looking down at the floor: he could see the cracks trailing from their origin in his peripheral vision. He just shook his head in disbelief, and lead the way.

Thor followed, trailing slightly behind Tony, though his strides were twice the size. Tony gripped the doorknob, and pushed down slowly. Thor pushed his way through the gap, and felt the door knock him slightly as Tony shut it again. But he didn't see it, or pay attention to it. The white walls, stained with a slight scatter of blood, and cracked in parts. His eyes moved around the room, glancing over the messed bed, the odd drops of red on the floor, the impact marks on the wall, moving all around until his gaze fixed upon the figure, watching him fearfully in the corner.

The blue eyes drowned him with sympathy, pity, for the man in front of him, hunched in the corner, clothes torn and dirtied, leg bent outwards at an odd, and painful-looking angle. Thor approached him slowly, the other watching him uneasily, as if he would try to defend himself in his current state. Thor continued onwards, slowly closing the gap between them, until he stood in front of the broken man.

He crouched, resting upon his knees, looking into those deep blue eyes, and opened his arms up. The other started to panic, a soft sob escaping his lips, and he tried to push himself further into the corner. Thor wrapped his arms around the petrified man in front of him, and he felt the other flinch at physical contact, as if he expected to be struck. Thor pulled him gently into his chest, running his hand over the other man's hair, the presence of his fingers leaving trails of black hair behind them, moving through his hair again and again, each touch unravelling spells and incantations, a disguise designed through crafted words.

He released his embrace, holding a 'new' man by the shoulders, Thor's eyes flitting over the various injuries. He saw every gash, every bruise on his bare chest and face, his raw wrists, and he felt the broken ribs, the broken heart, the broken demeanour. One hand trailed softly over the others cheek as a tear fell from closed eyes, squeezed shut, and Thor brushed the loose black strands back. He felt how the other shook in his grasp, and watched as the others eyes slowly opened, the eyes he knew, filled with complete and utter terror, alike the terror one would see in a child's eyes. And so vibrantly green. He felt his own path of thoughts falter when their eyes met, as he saw the past through those eyes, the memories, the emotions, the pain. He felt his own vision clouding up, and he felt something crawling down his face, leaving a warm trail. His own hands shook slightly as he pulled the other into another hug, an embrace of happiness and sorrow, of gladness and fear.

"What have they done to you, brother?" Thor murmured, his own voice shaky. "What did they do…"


	5. Repose

**A/N  
Again, I know I say this every time, but I can't thank you all enough for reviews, favourites and subscribes. It really means the whole of Midgard to me, it truly does. Please do keep reviewing, and letting me knoew what you think and all that (gosh I sound like a desperate author) **

Loki felt his own breathing stutter as he buried his face into Thor's chest. Confusion and fear still held him tightly within its grasp, taunting him, mocking him. He couldn't even draw real comfort from a hug, out of fear that the moment Thor pulled away, the abuse would start again, dragging him down in its icy depths, but never far enough to make it all stop.

_Why hasn't he told you no-one cares yet, that you're worthless? _The words, the hateful tones haunted him constantly. And he believed every word they'd said to him, because it'd been said so many times, how could it not be true?

_Why hasn't he hit you yet? Struck you? _The bruises still stung as he pressed himself into the warm embrace, desperate to derive some peace, some love from it. Yet all he could see was the sadistic glint in their eyes, the barrage of punches and assorted instruments. All he could feel was each blow, each cut, each break, and how it never ceased. Never stopped. It felt like the embrace was lined with poisoned thorns, each comfort only digging deeper into him.

"Brother, I am more sorry than you can believe me to be. I truly am. But believe me when I say, Loki, that I shan't let another raise their hand to you, nor dare speak to you as if below them. I shall not. You mean far too much to me to allow that." He ran his hand soothingly down Loki's back, wincing at every bump he felt, at every flinch that ran through his brother's body. "Please, believe me."

He relived every moment constantly, every break was just another crack upon his already weakened soul, until he'd lost hold of whom he once was, reduced to begging and pleading, an action he resented. It showed him as inferior, as one who was weak, something he'd strove to prove he wasn't. Thor's words struck deep with him, but they were less of a sympathetic statement, and more of dagger lined with empathy, a rose coloured knife, slipping under his skin.

"I beg of you, brother, to take the repose you so dearly need. No harm shall come to you, and if I need stand by your side for the rest of eternity, Mjolnir raised to those who dare near you, then I shall. But, please, greet repose as a dear friend, and allow it to treat you with grace." Thor's words were soft, cushioned, and he felt his brother relent in his arms, enough of a sign to the God of Thunder to lift Loki slowly, his arms gently encompassing the broken god. He saw the dark, red circles underneath pained green eyes, and it wounded Thor to see his brother so.

He carried Loki across the room with ease, the God of Mischief weighing a worryingly minute amount. Thor lay him down slowly, offering a gentle, empathetic smile as he did so, and moved slowly, so as to not startle Loki. He pulled the sheets over, wincing at the red stains upon the white, and crouched beside his brother's bed, holding his hand, murmuring small comforts, as the god slowly drifted into a sleep. Thor could only hope it heralded sweet dreams, but he knew it unlikely. His hand traced across his brother's forehead, the dried blood and dirt slowly disappearing, leaving behind bruises and cuts. He sighed, watching the pained grimace forming on Loki's face, before leaving, as unobtrusively as he could, slipping through the door with the murmur of a creak.

His every movement from there onwards was watched by his teammates, each as anxious as the next to know what caused the sorrow upon the God of Thunder's face.

"I take it you know him, then…" Bruce was the first to break the silence, and the resulting tear confirmed it. Thor had held it in in the presence of his brother, trying to stay strong for one already so broken and weak.

"And so do you, my friends." He replied, solemnly. Natasha was the first to realise what Thor had meant, and offered him a sympathetic look, understanding the ache he felt. She hadn't had the best of upbringings, either, and she had felt her fair share of emotional pain. "My search for Loki is over. I had thought him to have escaped the cell those many months ago, having grown bored of imprisonment, but something had always felt… off, about such a theory. I knew Loki better than to have thought he would have fled his due punishment, and yet I still hunted his as if he were a convict. I just wished I had known…" Tony's eyes widened slightly, and Bruce remained silent, his gaze upon the floor bearing sympathy. They may have fought the god, and felt hate towards him for his actions, but no-one deserved torture, and Bruce would never have wished it upon Loki, no matter what he did. No-one deserved that.

"You mean, that's L-"

"Yes." Thor was blunt with his answer, as speaking of the topic pained him so.

"But, he had blue eyes, and-"

"Magic. Loki is a man of spells, not physical combat. He has always had a gift for crafting words to obey him so. What you see was merely a disguise formed from a web of words. I removed it. Though my skills lack in such an area, I can interpret and unravel such a web, unlike a mortal. Loki has hailed repose with a weak welcome, and I suggest you do the same, or at the very least, do not disturb him." The level of authority in Thor's voice, even when such emotional agony fed through, was one that could not be ignored, and so, slowly, the congregation of Avengers separated, Natasha, heading towards her quarters, and Tony headed towards Steve and Clint, with Bruce tailing him.

Thor looked longingly towards the door separating him and Loki, and let his feet carry him away. It wasn't long, though, before Thor returned, changed into Midgardian rest wear, clutching Mjolnir in one hand, and a pillow in his other hand, a duvet tucked under his arm. He nudged the handle down with his elbow, and crept back into his brother's room, each step making a tiny tap against the floor. Thor made his way over to Loki's bedside, and lay his pillow and duvet down, laying Mjolnir beside them. He couldn't resist the urge the run his hand through Loki's pure black hair once more, and murmured good tidings whilst doing so.

Thor tucked the blanket over his brother in, and smiled softly, before laying down himself, his hand outstretched toward Mjolnir, should he awake in need of his trusty hammer. He glanced once more towards Loki, reassuring himself, and let his eyes drift shut.

"Good night, dear brother…"


	6. Knowledge

Tony felt a hand sneaking into his as he walked, fingers wrapping around his palm and weaving in and out of his. He smiled slightly, and glanced over his shoulder. Bruce was walking with his head low: the scientist had never really gotten over his certainty that people didn't really want him around, that he didn't belong here, but out in hiding, where no-one was in danger of him. Tony had been working persistently to break through the iron shell Bruce hid so deep within, but he had yet to make a dent.

He squeezed the hand nestled within his slightly, and Bruce looked up to him, a shy smile gracing the lips Tony loved. Ever since he and Pepper had parted ways, Bruce had acted as a shoulder to cry on, an extra leg to stand on, and most importantly, a best friend. How things had changed from there, Tony didn't even know. It had changed so quickly, but the signs were subtle: the favoured chat up line of 'If I were an enzyme, I'd be a DNA-helicase so I could unzip your genes', the smiles at each other across the room, the spending more time together 'experimenting', and the time when they sat, and talked, about everything they'd been through, about their pasts and what they both desired in the future. That was the night of their first kiss. An accident. Tony was drinking his blues away, and Bruce had joined him this once, a desperate plight to rid himself of what he'd shared. The urge had become overwhelming for the shy scientist, only enhanced by the alcohol, so he leaned forward. Neither of them flinched, or pulled away in shock, recoiling from the gone-friendship. That night, they fell to sleep side by side on the sofa, an empty bottle of vodka lay on the table.

"What am I meant to feel, Bruce? It's like feeling sympathy for the Devil… Just how empathetic am I meant to be right now?" Tony sighed, his desire for something bitter and warm to run down his throat increasing, the intoxicating feel alcohol gave him growing so tempting.

"You should be the most empathetic…" Bruce mumbled. "You know best of us what he's been through, Tony. Sympathy for the devil it may be, but even the devil deserves sympathy." Tony didn't bother reply. He knew exactly what Bruce was referring to, and though it hurt to think of such a dark time. He only had Rhodey to rely on then, to help him through, and even that was enough. Which was part of the reason alcohol had become a comfort in hard times. Tony couldn't even recall the last time he saw James. Heard about him, yes, but not saw him. Rhodey was too… busy for an overgrown child now, was what Tony was told. That one had struck deep.

"All my mutants are accounted for, Steve, though I shall see what I can find for you." Steve sat perched on the edge of a glass, in front of one of Stark's favoured style of screen: incredibly and excessively massive. Charles smiled warmly at Steve, trying to break the ice with the supersoldier. It didn't take a telepath to notice the tense posture Steve was in.

"It's good to know you and your… students are alright, sir." Charles chuckled slightly, glancing downwards as he did, and fixed his gaze back upon Steve, who continued to look forward with a rigid posture.

"I don't understand your disdain in referring to us as what we are, Steve. As mutants." Steve frowned ever so slightly, at what he believed to be a misuse of such a vile word.

"With all due respects, sir, I believe mutants to be ghastly things, ones without an ounce of good intent or reform in their body. I wouldn't hesitate in referring to Red Skull as a mutant, or many of the people I have fought with. But not you, sir, and not your students. I don't believe you're mutants: you're all good people, fighting for the better. Some may have deviated towards dark desires, but you aren't bad people. And you certainly aren't ghastly things." Charles smiled, his face wrinkling ever so slightly.

"Please, call me Charles, or Xavier very least. Sir gives the impression I am your superior, which you have proven I am not, but instead, an equal." With Charles' words, the screen cut out, and Steve frowned, no closer to finding out who the man was. Though the parting words of Xavier had had an effect on him, and a positive one at that. He ran his hand through already ruffled, and sighed as Clint walked back into the room.

One glance told him everything: Reed didn't know anything either. Clint looked just as weary as him, if not more. A day such as this took their toll on anyone, even supersoldiers with enhanced energy levels. Clint smiled half-heartedly at Steve, and Steve returned the gesture, slumping in his previously rigid posture.

"Reed has nothing, but he said he'll keep an eye out for us. Any luck?" Clint already knew the answer to it, but it was mere formalities to ask.

"Charles said the same. I don't even know where to start, Clint. And what do we do with you-know-who? I am never going to stand up for his rights, not after what he did, but saying that, I don't think I'd be able to just hand him over to Stark. He'd be in the middle of nowhere before the hour was up, still in those damn pink cuffs!" Clint quirked an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. He wasn't just going to stand up for someone so damn twisted, but, he couldn't just stand by either.

"I don't know, Steve. We're just back to square one, and before we know more, I ain't going to Fury on this one. We don't know who that is, hell, we don't know if SHIELD is involved! I wouldn't put it past them, they've been known to do a lot of business 'under the table', if you know what I mean." Steve grimaced and nodded: he'd always had a suspicion that SHIELD weren't always strictly legal with their approaches to some things.

"Well, I wouldn't quite say square one. We know who our broken… friend is." Bruce no longer had his hand entwined with Tony's, though they stood side by side by the doorway, shoulders and knuckles brushing against each other. The physical contact was a comfort for Bruce, as Clint frowned at them, his brow furrowed, and Steve arched an eyebrow. "Thor helped out a bit. Well. A bit is an understatement. He told us who it was, in his special Thor way."

"And?" Clint prompted, getting rather fidgety, fiddling with his fingers.

"Remember our first team battle, our first psy-"

"Loki." Bruce cut Tony off, noticing how he skirted around the name, how he danced around directly revealing whom. Tony shot Bruce a rather irritated glance for spoiling his fun, but Bruce knew it wasn't fun. Something like that could never be fun. Tony knew it could never be fun. He avoided coming outright, because it reminded him, and Tony did not like being reminded of things he strove desperately to forget.

Clint glared onwards, lost within an inner conflict. The man who'd stole his identity, made him someone else entirely, and almost forced him to kill the only person he ever loved, now lay at their mercy, broken and damaged, emotionally scarred to what seemed beyond repair. Somehow, he still felt sorry for the man, and though he desired all that previous hatred towards the god to return, all the darkened despise he felt towards him to come back, he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't bring himself to hate a broken man. Heck, the man had already been broken the first time they'd met, but a different kind of broken. A twisted broken. And even now, come to think of it, Clint couldn't properly hate the before Loki, not now. Because Clint knew better than anyone that monsters like Loki were crafted from emotional pain and mental trauma. They didn't just decide to be monsters. And he still didn't know Loki's story yet.

Caught in their own little worlds, nobody noticed Steve's reaction. And he was thankful for that. Because had they seen him, as he faltered, as his body tensed with anger, not towards Loki but towards the sick creature who could do such a thing to someone, as his breath quickened, and his pupils dilated, they would've known Steve felt a variation upon what they felt, and they would've realised what Steve felt before he did. But not even Steve knew what that emotion, growing at the pit of his stomach, swelling and making him nauseous, was.


	7. Murky

Steve awoke, panting, eyes fearful. Such a nightmare like the one which had accompanied him throughout the long night was far worse than any of the flashbacks, the tendrils of dark memories encompassing his mind. He'd been forced to watch, as an entity, an outsider, as the demi-god under their care was struck, as he cried out, something Steve would've seen as incredibly out of character for Loki, had he not known the circumstances.

He buried his head in his pillow, clawing at the other side, trying to pull the images from their grasp on his mind. With others, he was calm, collected man who stood up for the rights of others, but when nobody could see, when he was out of sight, when no prying eyes intruded on his privacy, Steve was an emotional wreck. He pretended to be at peace with technology, yet he struggled to comprehend it, and it pained him to be such an outsider in this society. He felt as his fingers broke through the weakened material, the patches he clawed at after each painful night, and sighed. Yet another thing that billionaire twat could complain at him about, and there was nothing Steve could do to defend himself, as it was the same aforementioned billionaire who put a roof over his head, food on his plate, and clean clothes in his wardrobe.

He pushed himself upwards slowly off the palms of his hands, feeling his feet sink into the carpet as he rose. It was something he took for granted, the warmth beneath his feet, the monsters he didn't live in fear of. He pulled on the clothes lay across the edge of his bed, and let his weary legs carry him onwards. It wasn't a feeling that would last long, weariness, but it was an interesting one whilst it lasted.

The first thing Steve noticed was the distinct lack of complaining billionaires, demi-gods shouting at anything electrical, and assassins lurking about the towers. JARVIS was helpful upon request though, despite Steve wishing he hadn't asked when the response arrived. Apparently, Natasha and Clint were together, alone, doing things Steve's innocent mind couldn't comprehend, Thor was being very protective, and Tony and Bruce were currently hovering over the Sahara desert. Steve should've known better than to think Tony wouldn't do what he desired in such a situation. So occupied himself watching the CCTV footage of Loki's room, to see if there was any way to be of use towards the pained demi-god.

* * *

Thor was awakened by the soft whimpers emanating from beside him. Having only just awoken, coming face to face with a bruised Loki was quite a shock, as the memories of the previous day hadn't returned to him yet, and his instincts kicked in, jumping to his feet, clutching Mjolnir in his hand. His lips curled back as he held Mjolnir above his head, eyes scanning across the room. A sharp, cold growl escaped his throat, and he clenched his other hand into a fist, glancing back towards his brother once he'd assured himself it was only he and Loki there.

Mjolnir lowered, and dropped to the ground as it slowly returned to him, and the God of Thunder fell to his knees, as the feeling of uselessness, and guilt returned to him, pushing down, as if a realm itself rested upon his shoulders. His hands pressed downwards, head hung, as crack lines grew from beneath his hands. He pounded the dents with fists, lost in his anger and grief, each crack in the tiles merely another string of sorrow, another crack in his mentality.

Only did he stop when he felt a soft hand rested atop his shoulder, another one lifting him upwards. Thor didn't try to resist as he came to face the supersoldier, only glancing over Steve's expression. It was then he realised, that the way Steve looked was likely a reflection of himself, and it made him wonder why Steve cared so for someone he'd only encountered once, in which said someone tried to take over their world.

"Thank you, friend Steve. I fear I may have lost myself there. I do apologise for worrying you so." Steve merely nodded, Thor noticing how his gaze was transfixed upon the raven-haired demi-god, whimpering through his sleep.

"Would it be best for us to wake him? He sounds like he's in pain, or dreaming of what, um, you know…" Steve trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck as he saw the sorrow in Thor's eyes intensify upon mere mention. The God of Thunder looked at Steve, eyes vacant, and nodded slowly. Steve needed no more prompting, and moved forward, mirrored by the other occupant of the room. Thor grasped loosely onto his shoulders, Steve standing on hand to help, and attempted to awaken his brother in the only way Thor had ever known: shaking him.

Upon the slightest jolt, the emerald eyes shot open, glancing around frantically. Loki tried to push himself upwards, Thor's grasp holding him down, only causing him to panic more, uncertain of his surroundings. He struggled against the pressure, lashing out until he locked eyes with Thor. His breathing was still quickened, but he stopped writhing, laying still.

"Please, just, please don't do that…" He rasped, as Thor released his grip, backing away slightly. The demi-god glanced around, fear dancing in his eyes, twisting with each new sight. When his eyes brushed across Steve, the child-like fear he'd seen yesterday was gone, replaced with unspoken gratitude, and something else. Something that lit the murky green eye ever so slightly.

Loki pushed himself up into a seated position, wincing as half-healed cuts stretched, stitches pulling on the skin they wound around, as if they were formed of spiked rose bush vines. He pushed the sheet off himself, a short gasp of breath forcing itself out of his lungs, and ran one hand up and down his broken leg, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed at the crack on one side, a dim green light, rather similar to his eyes, bathed the area of the leg he pressed against. Steve watched with incredulity, never actually having seen the magic properly himself, and found himself mesmerised by how it surrounded the skin by his hand, even as Loki hissed out in pain.

"What did you do?" Steve asked, unable to contain his fascination. Loki's hand twitched and clenched, extinguishing the light, as he moved his hand away, relaxing his body again. It was then, Steve remembered, that the aforementioned demi-god was in fact, still, topless, and he couldn't help the way his eyes glanced up and down the tainted pale skin, decorated with scattered cuts and almost healed bruises.

"I, 'jump started' the healing, to put it into your mortal phrasing. I have yet to thank you for yesterday, as I am sure, that if you had have known, whom it was, you would've left, as the agent had implied. So I extend to you, my sincerest thanks." Steve noticed the pattern in how Loki was acting: the occasional pause in speech, the winces, the hesitation at physical contact and the attempts to avoid eye contact. He was trying to hide away, pretend nothing had changed nor happened since their previous meeting.

"I would've helped you anyway. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, never mind turn a blind eye towards it." Steve offered up a warm smile, the best action he could think of which wouldn't cause any further harm. The demi-god saw it, but only briefly, for his gaze was fleeting, flickering around the room, constantly analysing for something, anything, that could hurt him, or pose even the smallest of threats towards his sanity.

"Brother, be you willing to speak with me? I wish not to rush such things, but my concern for you is pressing indeed."

"About what?" Came the all too quick, slightly shaky response, and it was only then Steve began to realise the extent of the damage upon the once-confident, overly pertinacious prince of Asgard, the God of Mischief, not physically, but mentally, as he lay, a broken mirror, showing those who looked to him just what they desired to see, if they ignored the cracks running through it.

* * *

**I decided to put the author note down here, out of the way. Again, thank you for reviewing, adding to favourites, and subscribing. Also, just a random little thing I'd like to share with you: the song Never Too Late by Three Days Grace is brilliant for understanding things from Thor's point of view at the moment, if not taken literally.**


	8. Sorry

**I am very sorry, guys, but I'm not going to becontinuing this story, mainly due to stress and complete lack of confidence in my writing ability, because, in all honesty, looking at my work and then the work of others, I can tell mine isn't of a high calibre. So if anyone wants to 'adopt' the story, just send a message.**

**As an extended apology, I can recommend, from what I've read, A Web Of Words, Drown, The 30 Excuses of Loki, Domesticity, Adventures of Awkward Steve and Far Too Gone.**

**Again, sorry, but chances are I won't carry this on, as I don't see my writing style as suffice to entertain readers properly.**


	9. Promise

**A/N  
This chapter was pre-written. I would have uploaded it this morning, but with the tumblr crisis, I may have got distracted. Let's just say I was getting very angry with a particular someone. If you don't know what happened, it's not that hard to figure out. The whole website exploded. Just scroll through a few posts. You'll find out. Anyway, um, thank you for all the kind messages. I'm still not sure, I just, I don't know. Let me think about it, please. Anyway, here is your pre-written chapter, longer than normal. Enjoy.  
**

* * *

"About what has passed, brother. You understand my request, do you not?" The murky green eyes flashed up, a storm of emotions passing. Steve couldn't pull out a singular feeling: there were too many now as they glared towards the elder of the demi-gods. Thor was slightly taken aback by the response, believing his request to be a reasonable, and to some extent, helpful one. Loki had rejected it with distaste.

"I wish to be left alone," he mumbled, his gaze falling once more, sullen. Thor watched with sorrow as his brother's head fell, and looked to Steve for guidance, unsure how to respond in such a situation. Steve nodded slightly, a slight frown present upon his lips. Thor clenched his jaw, and turned back to Loki.

"But brother, I-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" The demi-god cried, the threat present in his voice. But it wasn't fuelled by anger, or any of his usual emotions. It was driven by fear. Fear of admitting a weakness to those around him, specifically his brother. Fear that they'd abuse that weakness to manipulate him into whatever they desired. Another mental warfare technique that, Steve realised, they must of used many a time.

The super soldier ushered Thor out the room, casting his fair share of concerned glances over his shoulder as they left. The younger demi-god had begun controlling a green spark between his hands, appearing enthralled by his own magical craftsman shape, twisting its shape, small sparks flying off it as it swelled between his hands. As much as the sight fascinated Steve, it worried him too, and rightly so, as the moment the door shut behind him, severing the visual connection, there was a thump on the other side of the door, a circular shape singing through the white-coated wood, tainting it with an ashen pattern.

"Wha-what did he just do?"

"He is attempting to distract his mind, dear friend. My brother is known to play with harmless magic out of boredom, or to push other thoughts away. I believe it to be the latter he is seeking to achieve, for I cannot see boredom being present as of current." Steve felt rather intimidated as Thor looked down on him: the super soldier himself was rather tall, but compared to Thor, he may as well have been an ant. Tiny and inconsequential. Wasn't a first though.

"Should we be worried? I mean, will we be safe?" Thor chuckled, a deep boom echoing throughout the room, a sound left unmade since Thor had learnt of his brother's traumatic happenings.

"No, patriotic one, you need worry not, for you have shown kindness to him, and for that, he is in your gratitude. My brother shall not harm anyone." Steve nodded slightly, his eyes focused upon the door and the array of noises from behind it. Steve could've sworn he heard a chicken, but decided against the pressing curiosity to go back into the room, knowing that was just inviting a magical smiting of some kind.

* * *

Almost an hour had passed before the return of the billionaire and his coy scientist 'friend', within which time Thor had managed to break yet another toaster, by trying to force the 'shiny beast to fry his egg'; Natasha and Clint had emerged from behind a locked door, hair still ruffled from their escapades; and several kittens, black with green eyes, had appeared out of nowhere, each with a rather distasteful temperament, and a knack for destruction. Thor took them up in his arms, eyes lighting up at the tiny bundles of angered fluff, and Steve just grinned, more than certain of their source, but he tried to stay clear of them, despite having a small group of them who wouldn't leave the super soldier alone.

"Guys! I wasn't even out for long! What the actual hell!" One of the kittens hit head first into Tony's leg, and began to hiss at the billionaire. He hissed back out it, glaring, when the kitten dug it's claws into his leg. "Ouch! Bloody hell!" Tony swung his leg around, knocking the kitten off into Bruce, who, after seeing the scientist, scuttled off towards Steve. Tony pouted, rather jealous of Steve's apparent knack with the little fur balls.

"Maybe if you weren't out at all, this wouldn't have happened." Steve found it hard to make himself heard above the mewing around him, and purring, as his hands ran over the backs of some of the kittens nestled on his lap. He'd given in rather quickly to the overwhelming tidal wave of fluffiness, and had sat down, rather to the kitten's pleasure. "Anyway, Sahara. Care to explain, Tony?" Steve felt a ruffling on his head, a couple of sharp pricks on the back of his cranium, and smiled, as his hands caught yet another kitten between them, as if a fishing net within a damn ocean. He set it atop his lap, snuggled next to the numerous others who had swarmed him.

"I- We were visiting a friend… In the Sahara desert…" Bruce glared at him, rather disdainful at his apparent inclusion in yet another of Tony's crazed and nonsensical schemes.

"You can leave me out of this, Tony. I just went along because you asked nicely…" Steve noticed the smirks passing between the two, the brushing of hands, the stolen glances and sighed.

"If you two have finished acting like a pair of teenagers…" Steve paused a second, glancing between the two. "I thought I'd told you no, Tony! I get that he's unwelcome here, but you can't just dump him wherever you want. We would've… would've-"

"Would've what? Given him over to SHIELD? Then what? They'll want info, they'll want to know who he is, and then how can we hide the fact that there is another damn demi-god living under our roof? Look, I'm sorry Steve, I get it. You can't help but care for everyone. But I don't. And sure, I'm not completely comfortable with housing someone who tried to kill us at one point, but there is no way in hell I am having a _torturer _living here. No." The word, that word felt like a fire raging through Tony, ravaging the walls he'd carefully built up after his incidence, tearing them down, bearing the real Tony, the unprotected Tony to everyone. A weakness Tony couldn't deal with.

Steve watched as Tony left, his head hung slightly, whether in shame of being weak, being human, or just from being tired, he didn't know. The super soldier had his suspicions though. He'd never really known the full story, only that Tony hadn't had the greatest of pasts, and Steve couldn't bring himself to question such an apparently sensitive issue.

"I'll, um, go and see if he's okay. You seem a little, pre-occupied, with, you know…" Bruce gestured towards the growing crowd upon Steve's knee, and smiled slightly, as a rather large bang came from behind Steve. The super soldier and scientist both mirrored each other, looking over towards the source, a sheepishly grinning Thor stood next a smoking toaster, with a kitten sleeping in his arm, purring and batting it's paws in the air. He waved, then tried to fish the charred remains of his latest food disaster out of the 'monster of metal'. The result was a rather unmanly yelp, and a few bright red godly fingers.

Bruce smiled awkwardly, dashing off after his departed friend, leaving Steve and Thor amidst the rabble of kittens. At least the black fluff balls hadn't tried to kill them yet.

* * *

"I'm not kidding, someone has to get in there, and make him stop! These… these mini-Lokis won't stop mewling at me, and it's not even funny!" Natasha hissed, pushing yet another one away who had come to her with the sole intention of teasing her over the infamous insult. It had become apparent throughout the day that Loki had put a little of himself into each and every one of the rampaging kittens. It only got worse when they developed the ability to make their own 'mini Asgardian armours' appear and disappear at will. The helmet mainly appeared around Tony, for violent uses, the sharp horns prodding into his legs constantly.

"I will go discourse with my brother. He has had time for his fun, and for his rest. Patriotic one, friend Steve, I request that you accompany me. He appears fond of you, which is perfectly understandable, given the circumstances of your last meeting." Steve sighed: not for the need to re-enter god knows what with a God of Thunder, but because he'd grown rather fond of the kittens curled upon his lap, and the way they purred each time he stroked one.

"Can't one of you cat charmers stay out here? I mean, these damn things keep glaring at me and hissing, and it's kind of freaking me out," Clint protested, just as the growls and unpleasant dins began again. He growled back, but it only seemed to provoke the kittens, to which they replied with louder, more fearsome hissing. Clint backed down then: they may look like kittens, but they damn sure hadn't acted like kittens so far, and knowing Loki, they had the ability to kill in the most adorably agonising way possible.

"If you want to argue with the god, go ahead. I'm not stopping you." Thor smiled at Steve's remark, still quite unsure though as to why the mortals kept using him as some sort of threat to each other. They were all friends, weren't they? He pushed his way past the now singed door, the barrier between him and Loki, the same, confused smile plastered across his face. Steve stopped at the back, as he always did, ready to help if needed, but not too close to actually interfere.

"Did you like my little creations?" The God of Mischief crooned, the sly smile upon his face indicating he was rather pleased by the little bout of chaos he managed to create, all whilst in a different room. Thor chuckled, the thunderous clamour echoing throughout the room. Steve winced slightly at the magnitude of the noise the thunderer had produced, but he stood still. A warm feeling was growing within, spreading throughout him like a poison in his bloodstream, unstoppable and destructive.

"Very adorable, as these mortals say, dear brother. You always have had a truly beautiful imagination, Loki."

"That I have, Thor…" Loki's expression dropped slightly, and Steve felt the pain of the poison when the saddened gaze shifted to him. The burning through his body just intensified, all-consuming. He'd never felt anything much like this before. It felt remotely like, like that time he had to fight his way through barbed wire out on the battlefields of the past. The outcome was good, the outcome was great, he managed to save lives. But getting there was possibly the most painful experience of his life. "Whilst alone, despite occupied by my… mischevious endeavours, I had time to think. Brother, everything you said before, about always caring, about mourning, everything you have ever uttered on the kind. Was it truth?" Loki rifled through his brother's eyes, hunting desperately for a tell-tale sign of deception, of deceit. Nothing.

"Every word I have ever spoken of the kind had been, and is still, nothing but truth. Why do you ask?" Still nothing. Nothing but completely unrelenting truth. Loki let out of a small sigh of relief, a breath he hadn't realised he was holding in, and smiled slightly, a slight twinkle in his emerald green eyes.

"Will you promise me something then, Thor? And will you promise to keep such an assurance to the best of your ability, unless it poses a threat upon your life, or Steves?" Steve blinked slightly, surprised at his acknowledgement by Loki, and the poison burned through his veins again. Thor watched his brother's every movement, with a brow furrowed in confusion, and to some extent, worry.

"Anything, brother. Anything you ask of me, I will swear to." Loki tried to smile, but the weak attempt came across as a weak grimace. The worry was building within Thor's stomach, a pit growing within him. Steve watched on, with equal confusion, and a driving curiosity.

"Promise me you'll find me." He forced out, a strand of growing pain in his voice. Thor's lips parted, and his head began to shake, in denial, and he shouted out curses foreign to Steve, his tone desperate. They twisted into pleas, and Steve watched as Loki's fingers rehabilitated, a dull blue colouring spreading throughout his body. The last thing Steve heard was a pained whimper, as the clothes fell limp on the bed, and Thor's pleas grew louder. The God of Mischief was gone.


	10. Storm

"Thor? Thor, what's going on?" Steve persisted in trying to get through to the God of Thunder, the worry within him growing as Thor yelled curse after curse, each desperate and quickly strung together, all sounding like gibberish to Steve. The limp clothes lay on the bed, as if thrown there, confusing Steve further. "Thor! Calm down!" The demi-god looked at Steve, wild-eyed, which only caused further panic to grow in the super soldier. "What is going on." The blue eyes flickered over Steve briefly, before their gaze fell and Thor sighed.

Steve felt a pang of pain, seeing the God of Thunder so _shocked_, for lack of a better word. Thor was not one to fall easy, mentally and physically, and yet here, after his brother had vanished before his own eyes, like a whisper on the wind, Thor was shaken.

"That was not Loki," he murmured under his breath, a soft tone underlying the fear. "Loki was never with us. Not truly. That was the result of his magic." Thor grasped at his hair, pulling ever so slightly as low moans fell from his mouth. Steve felt his curiosity grow, despite the all-consuming anxiety, and clearly, Thor saw it written in the furrowed brow, in the widened eyes. "What we played host to was the result of carefully weaved words by my brother. Trickery, to some extent, if I know him as well as I believe, but not for malicious intentions.

"Loki was… testing our good will, seeing if anyone cared for him. Though why, I know not." The brief explanation was quickly followed by what Steve was more than certain was another explicit Asgardian curse, and it was merely a cue for more confusion.

"Maybe he- He could've- I don't know… The way he acted though. It was like it was all real, and there wasn't even a spiteful quip or a smirk. Thor, what if it was real?" The god looked towards him, a slight glimmer in his eye, but a fleeting flicker of hope was present. "What if, he used his magic to create that clone? To make us aware when we wouldn't be otherwise? He asked you to promise you would find him, but only if it didn't risk your life."

"Or yours." Thor added, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards from a grimace momentarily. Steve shuffled slightly, not sure how to respond, and still rather shocked at his inclusion from Loki. To be cared for by the God of Mischief, even only slightly, was a feat and an achievement in itself. Loki didn't just give his sentiments away like sweets, though the feeling of being cared for by one renowned for being so cold was incredibly warming.

"Um, yeah. Look, what I'm saying, is what if what he said happened, actually happened. Heck, is still happening? What he made that duplicate to get our attention, primarily, yours, because he needs help, Thor…" The God of Thunder felt his lips part slightly, the feasibility of friend Steve's idea becoming apparent to him, the storm clouds that so tentatively followed him parting, allowing the light through. In this realm, he'd always felt amidst a tempest, never quite understanding anything Midgard presented him with, merely striding with an innocent smile plastered upon his face, denying to himself just how out of place he was here. How the standards of society were different here, and it still stumped Thor more than he was willing to admit.

"Are you implying that my brother may be in danger? That he may still be experiencing whatever atrocities befell him before?" Steve nodded, almost fearfully, anticipating another string of crude Aesir curses, and pleas toward whatever deity deities prayed to. There was a swift, ineligible mutter which parted from his mouth, then Thor turned his face upwards, jaw held strong with determination. "If it is help my brother requires, it is help I shall give him. I refuse to let him sit out there, with a false hope after my agreement to find him. Thor the thunderer is not one to go back on his promises. But I must know, how do you know that the situation is so." Steve remained silent for a moment, tasting the different words in his mouth, seeing which words moulded together best for his desired effect.

"Because it's what I would do." The statement was blunt, and simple, and the meaning simpler still, and yet it caught the God of Thunder, it convinced him.

"Then, friend Steve, we must, as sir Nick says frequently, assemble the Avengers." A dark, twisted smile formed on Steve. He could beat that asshole up twice. What an effective stress reliever that had proved last time. The vengeful gleam was present in his eyes, for one of the few times in his life, and it was then Steve began to question his emotions toward the God of Mischief.

* * *

He met eyes, and smiled. A weary, tired smile, but a smile none the less. Holding up a spell of that magnitude was draining for even the strongest of spellcasters, an added pain worth bearing. Because when Mjolnir smashed that skull of the mortal unworthy to even touch a god of such calibre, that would be when everything truly ended. The grudges, the one-sided negativity, the envy, the _pain._

The other man twisted his head slightly, such an action as a smile rare in scenarios like this one, a ghost of a frown, twisted by sick desires. Murky eyes burned with hope, an emotion thought lost long ago, stature held tense, bracing for the next blow. But they burned with hope. And something… else. Something that re-ignited the light lost back further than he could remember.

A hand rose, and he smiled, embracing the damned pain he'd lived with for so long now, too long to remember a different way of living. Pain. All-consuming, dragging him to the pits of Hell and back again, and all he could do was smile, as that hand raised in front of the metal eagle, and the sickening familiar acronym. He had hope.

There was hope.

* * *

**A/N  
Don't ever read The Ultimates whilst trying to write a fanfiction. It's an amazing storyline, The Ultimates 2, but the difference in personality for Steve is really distracting. I do recommend you to read it at some point, just not whilst you are trying to write a fanfiction. Anyway, I think Fire and Ice – Within Temptation compliments this chapter nice. Thank you for all the kind reviews, again. I am incredibly grateful for it.**


	11. Tests

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. He'd thought it was all good now, those damn temperamentally aggressive kittens had gone, and he perched on the edge of the leather sofa, whiskey in hand. The energy and radiation scans he'd ran on Loki had come back, and well, the readings were fascinating. He cross referenced the fluctuations in gamma ray readings with the security tape, each spike corresponding with some form of magical endeavour by the demi-god. And he ran like a power source, emitting his own energy. How, Tony didn't know, and that was captivated his mind the most. He didn't know. There was rarely anything he came across that he didn't know, and though he came across as a cocky playboy, especially after his very public split with Pepper, he was a scientist at heart, with a longing to understand the universe and everything in it, and enough money to fund the wildest of his experimental dreams. And with Bruce by his side, Tony had re-discovered the passion that first brought him into science, and his mind yearned so much more. Never had he met someone with an intellectual level high enough to challenge him, and rather frequently, to Tony's dismay, best him.

So when Captain Spandex and the God of Not-Understanding-Midgardian-Culture came out, looking like they'd just stepped out of some overrated war movie, determined and focused, well, that's when Tony came to the realisation that his night of wonderful experimentation on Norse Gods and their magic was not going to happen. He bit back a snide remark when, just below Thor's exterior, he saw sadness, and dominating fear, and settled for rolling his eyes and slumping back into his sofa.

Bruce had been watching some tacky reality show that Clint had insisted they put on, trying to cover his tracks by saying it was Natasha's favourite. It earned him a punch that made even Bruce wince, as the sound of the impact and the consequential whimper hit him. The two assassins started grinning at each other, whilst Clint massaged his arm, his jaw still held a little too tightly as he tried to distract his mind from the bruise that was so obviously going to be there tomorrow.

The banter ceased as Thor began to talk, Steve standing beside him, hands behind his back, shoulders pushed back and chest outwards, as if he was in line for inspection in the army again. The God of Thunder explained as best he could, and when he finally got to the "Loki is in danger, out there somewhere" part, that was when Stark began to rub his temples. He hadn't become a billionaire through not being a genius, and a genius could see from a mile off just where the thunderer intended to take this. Thor concluded his rather long-winded and confusing explanation, an innocent grin plastered across his face, puppy eyes on the ready.

"So, essentially, you want us to go behind SHIELD's back, to go save 'Midgard's' most wanted criminal, who may or may not be in danger, because you promised him?"

"Yes." Came Thor's blunt and simple reply. Tony raised an eyebrow, completely and utterly astounded by the demi-god, until Thor used his 'cute' face. The small, innocent, childlike smile, paired with giant eyes and the wringing of his hands would warm the cockles of even the cruellest being's heart, and Tony realised no matter how much he tried, no matter how hard he dug his heels in, there was no way Thor was going to allow himself to lose this fight. And it astonished the billionaire as to how an oversized, incredibly manly thunderer who walked around, swinging a hammer and declaring things most usually didn't understand, could pull off a face like that, when even most children wouldn't be able to reach such a façade of purity.

"Thor, your brother is renowned for playing pranks, right? I mean, he's the God of Mischief for gods sakes. How can you be certain he isn't just fooling around?" Thor paused for a moment at Clint's argument, his expression one of thought. He looked up at her, the innocent smile and large eyes gone, replaced with a slight grimace.

"I can't. But I don't want to risk it, Lady Natasha. I am more than certain you have encountered such situations in your life, where you have not the knowledge to confirm nor deny something, but you would rather play safe than take an unnecessary risk." Natasha nodded in acknowledgement, and to some extent, agreement, as her thoughts flashed back to the memories of Budapest. Yes, she didn't want to risk it then, and she couldn't have been more glad she followed her gut instinct as Clint ran his over hers, a subtle reassurance that everything was alright. They were more or less on the same wavelength, and the archer saw as her gaze turned rather vacant, as her lips twisted down slightly, tormenting herself with memories of the past.

"So, that's it? We're just going to up and out of here, go on a wild goose chase? I'm just saying, we have nothing to go on, nowhere to start, or anything." Bruce pointed, biting his lips at the rather aggressive, out of character look he gained from Steve, who looked ready to pounce on anyone who refused.

"Well, I wouldn't quite say nothing." Tony grinned, his egotistical, I'm-smarter-than-you trademark grin. Bruce tilted his head slightly, prompting the billionaire to continue. "I ran some scans on Loki whilst he was here – you know, the typical radiation readings, energy monitors, and the results were quite fascinating. The dude is literally a walking power house, he produces his own energy. And from what I can gather, his magic gamma signature is adaptable, that it calibrates with larger magical energy sources than himself, as, from when we last saw him, or Loki-2, whatever, Reindeer Games was running on the same frequency as the Tesseract."

"So, you mean, if I pull up the same equations as last time, we can track down his location. Granted, not as quickly, if we're doing this on the down-low. I'll only have access to your equipment, not the entire worlds, but I should be able to lock onto his frequency if it's strong enough." Clint through his hands in the air in mock defeat to the science, and fell backwards into his chair, watching with amusement.

"Exactly. Except, we won't be slower, we'll be quicker. Remember, dear Hulky, I have the arc reactor powering this place. If I get JARVIS on standby to reroute all power into the computers, which I shall do, we'll have a lock on that signature within the hour, if not quicker." Bruce's face light up, as his mind began to flow with ideas, experiments with that sort of power, with this new information they had on the demi-god. "So, JARVIS, on my command, I want all power from the arc reactor transferred to whatever Bruce needs it for. He's the expert in this field."

"Certainly, sir." Thor's face was light up like a Christmas tree, a picture of complete delight. The science speak, though he didn't understand it at all, completely enthralled him, and made him question the ideology of his people, the Aesir, being more advanced than the humans, when he would've had to search Midgard on foot for a chance at finding his brother, and yet these mortals could pull of such a feat within an hour.

"Now, come on Hulky, we've got some equipment to set up, have we not?" The smirk still lay on his face, but less of an I'm-a-genius-you're-an-idiot smirk, and more of a genuine, excited smirk. Bruce practically skipped after Tony, overwhelmed by the possibilities and revelations that the new data they had could bring. It was a scientist's dream, after all.

* * *

**A/N  
So, quick update. Hi. Um, yeah, not really sure what to say here. I guess I could recommend you go listen to Dance with the Devil – Breaking Benjamin, but it doesn't link with this chapter. Probably will later on, idk. It's just a good song.**

**Thank you for all the reviews, the favourites and subscribes. It really does mean the world to mean, it really, truly does.**


	12. Gamma

Tony watched in delight as Bruce practically skipped around the lab, like a kid in a candy store. He hadn't had the opportunity to use much any of the equipment, and the idea of actually having the arc reactor to power it all excited him beyond belief as he shuffled around, connecting each machine up to the next, and tapping away at the keyboard, eyes lit up.

"Tony?" He called out, slightly distracted by inputting all the logistical data and calibrating it to the gamma ray frequency in question.

"Mhm?" The billionaire replied, arms crossed over his chest, the blue gleam of his arc reactor just edging it's way over the obstacle.

"You don't happen to have a satellite, do you?" Tony burst out laughing, and Bruce glanced over his shoulder to a doubled over Stark, and quirked one of his eyebrows as if to prompt an answer, and a serious one from that, to part from the billionaire.

"You're asking a billionaire scientist, _billionaire, _if he has a play toy any sane scientist wants? Bruce dear, I thought you were smart." Bruce rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly, returning his attention to the floods of numbers and formulae on the screen. He hit the enter button, rather dramatically, and turned around in a swift movement, a grin still upon his face.

"If you would do the honours of having JARVIS reroute all power towards the computers now. Aannnndd…" He deliberately stretched the word out, and smiled innocently at Tony, who snorted and tapped his foot in response. "If you could broadcast the signal to your satellite, it would speed the whole process up a hell of a lot. At the moment, I can only reflect the signal off the ionosphere, so it'll take longer…" Tony grinned and walked over to Bruce, hands upon his hips, shaking them as he walked in an attempt to mimic how women frequently walked up to him.

"JARVIS, if you will." The billionaire draped one arm over Bruce's shoulder, closing the gap between them, a rather mischievous smile upon his lips, spread like butter. Bruce began to look around nervously, his flickering gaze erratically darting about as he backed up, only to hit the desk behind him. "Oh, and lock the door, will you JARVIS?" The coy scientist's eyes grew large at this point, and he took a deep breath, finally looking back into the pools of chocolate in front of him. Tony winked, Bruce blushed.

"Of course, sir. Power is being diverted to signal transmission as we speak." Bruce felt himself leaning backwards, hands moving further and further across the desk, knocking things out of their path, as Tony pushed himself closer, practically on top of the other scientist. A quick hand snuck around behind Bruce's head and pulled him forward, catching him by surprise as his lips hit those of Tony's, pouting. He knew better than to fight against Tony, and despite the way he acted so nervously whenever Tony behaved in such a manner, he actually enjoyed it. It was their dysfunctional way of working as a couple, and nobody knew that it was anything more than friends. Well, apart from Steve.

Tony's other hand weaved itself around Bruce's waist, rather snakelike in motion, and pulled him closer, pressing against his body. He could feel the moment Bruce gave into the temptation, when his lips started to work with Tony's, when his arm wrapped itself around Tony's shoulders. It was only in moments like these where Bruce unwound, when he stopped walking as if he was treading barefoot on glass, so utterly terrified of getting hurt. Tony couldn't blame him: the guy had felt like an outcast ever since the Hulk came into his life, rejected by society, rejected by himself. And so he'd hid under layers and layers of protection. Tony, on the other hand, had reacted in a complete opposite way to rejection. When his father didn't give him enough love, Tony made sure everyone else would, that they'd all know his name, crying it from rooftops. He'd made sure everyone knew him, refusing to shy away from attention, instead demanding it. They were polar opposites, and yet it worked perfectly. They were like the proton and the electron: complete opposite charges, but the attraction between them is too strong to resist, and the result is neutral. It was as if they had to be together, to balance out the world. The cocky billionaire and the shy scientist who hid in slums.

Tony moaned slightly, as Bruce lost himself in the heat of the moment, his hand grasping onto tufts of hair, pulling as he pushed his lips against the billionaires. Heck, how he wished there wasn't the pressing matter of finding a demi-god at the moment. He would've dragged Tony straight to the bedroom, in this mood, maybe even take him where they stood right now. Damn demi-gods and their scarily strong brothers. So Bruce settled for the passionate kiss, the completely imperfectly perfect kiss, in the middle of his favourite place, with his favourite person.

"If you lovebirds want to call it off now, I want to know just what the hell you're doing at the moment. Power usage surges like that don't go unmonitored, Stark." Tony's name was hissed, an obvious level of loathing present in the voice. Tony groaned and broke away from the kiss, despite urging for more, rather alike Bruce's desires. "Neither does harbouring a wanted war criminal."

"Fuck." He muttered, glaring back at the director who watched them from on the screen. Tony groaned again and ended the conference call, only for Fury to override the security, his scowl fiercer than last time.

"I'm waiting for answers, Stark. Did you honestly think we didn't keep tabs on your activity?" Tony, acting like the overgrown, spoilt kid his was, stuck his tongue out at Fury, holding the position for as long as he felt needed to make his immature statement of 'I don't care'. "I swear to god I'm dealing with bloody overgrown kids." He muttered to the side, turning to glare at Tony again. Bruce had wormed his way out of the shot, working his way around the laboratory, tweaking details on the screens.

"I'll tell you why. He has a scary ass big brother, who, if we don't go and search for Loki, will probably take down Avengers Tower in a tantrum. Heck, Thor would level a city if we refused. So if you want to deal with an angry god, who, by the way, held his own against our own unstoppable Hulk," Bruce glanced up at the mention, "then go ahead, but there is no way in hell, or Midgard, or Asgard, or whatever, that I'm going against Thor. He broke the kitchen last time we ran out of poptarts." Fury sighed, rubbing his eye, knowing that against big-mouth Tony, he'd never convince anyone otherwise.

"Fine. But Loki is your problem. Don't expect us to get involved, at all. If he makes a mess, you clean it up. If he kills hundreds of civilians again, you go tell the families it was all because you wanted to satisfy your mate. If he tries to conquer 'Midgard' again, your shiny little ass will be the only one getting it back." The screen cut to black, and faded into Bruce's whole science-equation rampage again. Tony could've swore Fury was a mother in a man's body. Such a nag.

"Tony, it's almost got a lock." 90%. Bruce watched, enthralled as numbers flew by on the screen, pictures and jumbled letter, surveillance footage running for a facial match. 91%. It all seemed to fly by, far faster with the power of the arc reactor than the scan for the Tesseract had been. 92%. Probably had Tony's satellite to thank for that. 93%. The billionaire had shuffled across to behind Bruce, resting his head upon the scientist's shoulder, watching as data flickered by on screen. 94%. A map had begun to load, faded and blurry, and completely undistinguished. 95%. The resolution began to clear up slightly, but still too pixelated to make anything out. 96%. Tony and Bruce watched as the map clarified into the familiar outline of America. Well, that was a start. 97%. The map started to zoom in, ever so slowly, occasionally fleeting over to another sector of the country. 98%. Definitely America. And apparently, close to them. A small blue dot marked Avengers Tower, toward the outer regions of the map. 99%. Same state, apparently. 100%. Shit.

"Sir, I have the location of the subject, Loki Laufeyson."

* * *

**A/N**

**Fury has known all along, but does he have more information than what he's letting on? They have the location of Loki, so why does Tony think 'Shit'? And finally, I give you, (badly written) slash kiss! 11 chapters for that... Sorry.**

**Blah, just ignore me. It's normally the best thing to do. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, added to favourites and subscribed. It really means a lot! And the song I shall recommend to you this chapter, is Titanium - David Guetta (I'm starting to sound like someone on Twitter with recommending songs. It's not deliberate, I swear!). This WILL be highly applicable on some chapters. Again, thank you!**


	13. Doom

**A/N  
I'd just like to ask, how many of you are familiar with the Marvel comic-verse? As many replies as possible would be incredibly helpful, as depending on which way the majority swings, will effect this story a fair bit. Also, if a larger amiunt of you are familiar with the comics than the number who arent, expect it to be like a rollercoaster. Actually, its gonna be a rollercoaster either way. **

**Thank you ever so much for all your reviews, your favourites and your subscribes. I say this every time, but it truly is heart-warming to see people enjoy this, and I'm delighted that I've brought a few more people on-board the Steve/Loki ship! Anyway, fear not, I have not gone down the 'SHIELD are the bad guys route'. I'm not saying they're Samaritans, they probably do do a lot of their stuff inhumanely, 'under the table' as some might say, but I don't see them as the bad guys. Explanations are coming, my dears, fear not, especially, for the logo our little demi-god saw.  
**

* * *

"I don't like this, Bruce. According to this, he is right under our noses. Like, literally. And, why the hell is the gamma signature weak? I really, really do not like this. The readings shouldn't weaken: they'd remain at a constant level, unless he was dead, then it'd go out. A star does not just decide it wants to tone down the nuclear fusion, it will only cease when he's dead, which must mean-" the two scientists ran in sync, one finishing off theothers thought paths with perfect precision.

"Someone's blocking it. So it's safe to assume that the cell, or whatever, is lined with lead, unless they've got less conventional, old-school ways of absorbing the gamma being emitted. Clearly, it's someone who knows what they're doing, maybe a scientist, someone with access to whatever they want for whatever they need. Someone with a desire to understand and control things beyond then, because, honestly, why else would you take a top-notch sorcerer god?" Bruce's eyes flitted between Tony and the screen. He jabbed at the spot marked on the map, supposedly, literally, 5 minutes from them, around the block, a _far-too-cliché _run down factory. "Which is why, I don't think Loki's being held here." Realisation dawned upon Tony's face as he caught Bruce's gist, his mouth gaping open slightly.

"Because, if they had the tech to block out the gamma rays, they had the power to completely stop the emitted rays from being picked up. So, someone with money. Someone who clearly knows what they're doing, and someone experienced in the area of villainy, perhaps more so than Rudolph himself." Tony frowned slightly, a face he was not accustomed to pulling, and groaned dramatically, making sure Bruce noticed his action. "JARVIS, I need you to hack SHIELD's mainframe, pull me up a database of all their documented naughty dudes. And make sure there's a gin and tonic waiting for me when I leave this room." His fingers rapped impatiently against the desk as JARVIS opened up the hacked files, the names still loading. At the bottom, marked rather discouragingly, read '1018 files loaded'. "Any ideas, Bruce?"

"JARVIS, filter out deceased from the list." Tony looked rather embarrassed at the floor, shuffling slightly. How he hadn't thought of something as simple as that was beyond him. They did say though, that the most complex of minds refused simple solutions, as it lacked style and challenge for them, and most certainly didn't leave their mark. The processor stopped whirring, and the the list had condensed to a still rather lengthy 732 names.

"JARVIS, any chance you could search for an evil version of me? You know, rich, scientist, _handsome…_" Tony smiled, rather pleased with his cocky redemption of himself, Bruce shaking his head slightly and sighing. When the AI system replied though, Bruce though he'd never laughed harder in his life, his arms wrapped around his sides out of fear they may split if he let go.

"I do apologise, sir, but 'egotistical' is not a documented variable. I have, however, filtered the list with the other variables applicable to you. The new list of records is now on your screen." Tony huffed, crossing his arms in a rather childlike tantrum, a mental note already written to reprogram JARVIS when he next had chance. A sarcastic AI would not do, especially one with the power to render Anthony Stark speechless. The billionaire in question did not like being rendered speechless, especially not by his own technology. That was meant to render others speechless, through gawping at it.

Bruce ran his finger down the screen, mumbling under his breath and shaking his breath until he came upon one name in particular which triggered a slight taste of familiarity. He tapped the name, loading the file, glancing over the biography typed up. "Tony?" he called out, eyes fixed on the screen.

"Mhm?" Tony continued to pout, rather childishly upset over being insulted by HIS own artificial intelligence system, which HE programmed HIMSELF, with love and care and a hell of a lot of coding.

"If you've finished your hissy fit, I think we might have someone who fits the criteria. Rich, very rich, completely nutty, incredibly experienced in evil doings, and definitely fascinated by science. And, there have been no reports of activity lately. The name rings a bell, but I can't quite put anything to it. Tony?" The billionaire reluctantly looked towards the screen, having paid little attention to what Bruce had.

The following silence was strange, and rather frightening for Bruce, as he watched Tony's face slowly contort into an emotion he'd never seen the cocky billionaire express before: fear. Bruce looked back at the screen, scanning over the records as Tony scrolled through them, rather pointlessly, as he'd been present at most. The memories hit Bruce like a slap in the face, sharp, and most definitely unwanted. And what stood out the most to Bruce was just how demented this guy was. He ruled his own _fucking_ country for gods sakes.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This is not good, this is very not good. We need to talk with Reed! JARVIS, door, now!" He didn't care for the gin and tonic JARVIS had ever so kindly concocted for him, nor for the confused, and frankly, worried stares as he ran through the room, the occupants having sat (or stood in Thor's case) for the duration of Tony and Bruce's period of time within the labs. Bruce tailed Tony, stopping just before he left the sight of his teammates. The look upon his face drew them out of their seats without a hope of them staying put whilst Tony spoke with Reed, a man he particularly liked due to their mutual interests.

"JARVIS, call Reed!"

"Sir, it's currently 11:23pm, I do not think it's a wise-"

"JARVIS, I don't care what you think, I want Reed on conference call. Tell him it's urgent." Tony grimaced slightly, before the vile name left his lips. "Tell him it's about Victor. Victor von Doom." The uttered words, each dripping with resentment and foul hatred, hung in the air, poisoning the atmosphere, a taboo, a subject left unspoken, and those behind Tony, close enough to hear Tony, and informed enough to have heard the name before and have known what it was associated with, why it entailed, what it represented, felt the chill in the air, seeping into their hearts. The chill of fear.


	14. Fantastic

**A/****N**

**Thank you to everyone who replied! The majority of you are familiar with the comic-verse to some extent, which means this just got a lot more fun on my part! To those of you not familiar, the concepts from comics I'll explain at the end of each chapter, and if you have any questions (this applies to Norse mythology as well), feel free to ask! I don't bite :)**

Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Reed grunted slightly as he rolled over, recoiling his arm from around Susan. He winced slightly as the phone flashed, and slowly, reluctantly, picked it up, silencing the beeping. Susan herself had been disturbed, not by the noise but by Reed's movements, and so pushed herself up with her palms, watching her husband wearily.

"Hmph. JARVIS. Since when had Tony taught his pet robot to text?" Susan smiled slightly, picking up on the mock irritation, and the slight smile upon his face. Reed and Tony had always got along, always in awe of each other and their discoveries, even if they never openly expressed it. She ran a hand down the scientist's arm, a heavy weight as if it were a burden to lift it. He turned towards Susan, an unnaturally flexible arm wrapping round her neck, pulling her inwards toward him slightly.

"What does it say, dear?" He let his hand glided through her locks absentmindedly as his eyes scanned across the phone.

"I do apologise, sir, for disturbing you at such a late time, but Mr Stark requests a conference call. He said the matter is urgent, concerning…" He stuttered slightly as his eyes ran ahead faster than his tongue could relay. His face contorted slightly, slowly, the glare from the phone only emphasizing it so. Susan frowned, the pressure of her hand, now draped on top of Reed's shoulder, increasing slightly. "Concerning Victor… Von Doom…" The phone dropped, Reed feeling his mouth drying slightly, his breathing intensifying. Over the years, that name had come to herald only horror, pain and conflict for Reed, often being the subject of Von Doom's schemes, all due to an experiment-gone-wrong back in their university years.

He flicked the light switch with an abnormally long arm, and Susan watched as he rushed around the room, a flurry of stretched limbs and panicked mishaps, and she herself joined in dressing into suitable attire. Having encountered the villain her fair share of times during her super heroine life, Susan wouldn't let Reed battle him alone, and she was more than certain that Ben and Johnny would stand by her in such a decision. They were a close-knit team, after all.

She pulled on a rose blouse, and the trousers so carelessly tossed on the floor earlier that night. The teeth of her brush ran through blond strands quickly, simply tidying herself up to a presentable standard, and the Invisible Woman chased after Reed, who'd left the door swinging open in his rush to the main room, in which was the computers.

Reed tapped onto the keys, opening up a conference call with Tony, ignorant of Susan's footsteps, or the light from Ben's room. He tapped his fingers impatiently, and rather nervously, as the call was made, waiting for Tony to accept. Maybe he was more worried than necessary, and maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Tony just wanted information, or heck, maybe it was one of the billionaire's pathetic pranks, spurred on by a thirsty boredom, but Reed Richards couldn't not react to the name in such a way. History wound back between him and Victor, more so than the rest of the team, and he couldn't recall one memory which wasn't fear-inducing, or painful for one of them (or both), or just plain sad.

"Should we wake the others?" Susan whispered, causing Reed to jump a little out of his blissful unawareness. He shook his head slightly. Waking them would only cause panic, and he still didn't know to what extent the urgency Tony claimed the situation was, was. Susan rested her head atop his shoulder, peering over at the monitor with eyes that gave the false impression of awareness, when, in reality, she was still stuck in a world of slumber.

The screen flashed to life, Tony perched atop the table in front of the screen, surrounded by the rest of The Avengers. Reed noticed how one hand was gripped tightly on to the table, the other running across the stubble on Tony's chin, a nervous habit. Mjolnir swung in the background, but not leisurely, lightly, but rather in a calculated fashion, as if preparing to strike down a foe. If there was one thing Reed knew about Thor, it was that a tense Thor was as uncommon as a blue moon.

"Thanks, Reed, for calling. I wouldn't have urged JARVIS to pester you, if it wasn't important. You remember our last chat, about the missing guy, right?" Reed nodded slowly, already an idea formulating in his mind of where this was going. "Well, um, yeah. We identified him. Turns out it was Thor's estranged brother, Loki. You know, the one who levelled New York with his alien army?" Well. That explained why Thor was so agitated. Reed's jaw tightened slightly. He hadn't seen the aftermath personally, but the pictures were enough to re-assure him that Loki had the ability to cause mass destruction, like a trail that followed him wherever he stepped foot. But, then again, after discovering one his many names being the God of Chaos, it hadn't come as such a surprise, and never had there been a title more fitting. He tilted his head downwards slightly, a nod to prompt Tony to continue.

"Well, he disappeared. Me and Bruce ran a trace on his gamma signature, and whoever it is, has the tech to suppress gamma rays, as not only have they disguised it, they managed to plant a weak decoy signature. Bruce here is the genius on that, and like he said, it's going to cost a lot, take a deep understanding in science to manage such a feat. There is only, really, one guy I can think of who not only has both of those, but also an apparent fetish for magic and dark arts. Doctor Doom."

"But it's not concrete. And I don't understand what you want me to do, Tony." The billionaire sighed, rubbing his hands across his face. The signs of fatigue were present, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his usually upright posture had a curvature to it, a slump. His hair was ruffled carelessly, unlike its usual uniform messiness, and his hands were curled slightly, like claws, an easily provoked reaction from an irate, tired Tony.

"I'm not a fool Reed, I know you keep tabs on activity Latveria. Check the figures." Bruce butted in. Reed tapped on the keys, somewhat faster than the speed of a calm person, calling up a graph tracking the different figures associated with the country under dictatorship. His eyes traced along the graph, and he moaned inwardly at the energy line, displaced from its usual path by a significant amount. As it had been for numerous months. He had wanted more than anything for Tony to be wrong, just once. Heck, he still could be, it might just be that Victor had installed a plethora of streetlights, or maybe granted unlimited power usage to the unwilling residents, but with the suggestion put forward, the mere energy fluctuation was something he couldn't brush aside.

"There's an energy spike, a fair bit above norm. I'd seen it before, but we couldn't really storm a country because Victor decided to use some more power for god knows what. But, with your hunch, and all, it's not really something to be pushed aside. Oh, and Tony?" The billionaire glanced upwards, his head lifting out of his hands for a moment. "The increase started a few months back. The more worrying thing is, it's steadily increasing again, over the past few days. I think he might be preparing for something…" It's was Thor's turn to look rather fearful then, because despite the confusion some of the phrasing had caused, he'd understood the message, and it certainly didn't sound mellifluous to him.

"Are you implying that this Doctor of Doom has held my brother for several months?" Reed nodded, trying to keep a straight a face as the situation would permit him to. "And that he is to attempt something in the fore coming period of time, likely in relation to my brother?" The scientist nodded again, and the brief look of alarm upon Steve's face didn't go unnoticed, noted with curiosity. "Then, my friends, I apologise, but I see no good in waiting. If Loki is in clear danger, then I am obliged, as brother and friend, to aid him."

"Calm down big guy," came a low growl from behind Reed, unexpected, causing the scientist to once again jump. He twisted around, to come face to face with Ben and Johnny, neither of which looking particularly happy at having been woken. Susan stood beside them, her arms folded across her chest, her suit on, and Reed noticed Johnny was, also, dressed in such attire. "Just give us time to get over to Avengers Tower." A rubber arm twisted around Reed, hitting the escape button, closing the conference call down.

"How much do you know then?" He asked, rather hoping they'd been standing there long enough to grasp the situation. That, or Susan had brought them up to speed. Johnny smiled slightly, a flicker of malevolence on his lips, a spark dancing on the end of his fingers, twirling until he clenched his hand into a fist, extinguishing it.

"Enough to know that 'Doctor of Doom' needs his ass kicking again." A dark smile spread across Ben's face, the rock contorting around, forming dimples and wrinkles one would've thought impossible on such a rigid material. Susan had a vengeful gleam in her, sparked prior to each encounter with Victor, spurred not by the numerous times he'd hurt her, but the times he'd struck out at Reed, and consequently, her.

Reed succumbed to the majority, and despite the time, despite the foe and despite the circumstances, he smirked, his lips curling upwards in a vicious anticipation. He and Victor had history, and that was what made it so much easier to smile about it: because he'd be stopping his long-term arch-nemesis from whatever crazed plan had concocted itself within his deluded mind.

* * *

**Victor Von Doom - For those who haven't seen 'Fantastic Four', Victor is the archenemy of Reed Richards, also known as Mr Fantastic. Comic-verse, he's pitted himself against many other superhero teams, like The Avengers, and is a member of multiple groups, one of note being the Cabal, which, ironically enough, also has Loki on its register. Victor is often viewed asthe best villain Marvel have created.**

**Latveria - A made-up country (by Marvel) in Europe, where Victor Von Doom rules through a dictatorship.**

**Thank you as always for adding to favourites, subscribing and reviewing, and, as always, please drop some feedback. It really makes my day :)**


	15. Thunder

Johnny was the first to arrive, almost setting the walkway on fire, much to Tony's annoyance. He simply swaggered in, a flame dancing within the palm of his hand, a smirk upon his lips. The Human Torch raised an eyebrow at Natasha, and winked flirtatiously, which caused Clint to move closer to Natasha, a snarl playing upon his face. Johnny just laughed a little, and continued to walk on, until he came face to face with Steve, at which point both his and the super soldier's mouths dropped open.

"Dude, you look like me! Like, like me with hair!" Steve continued to stare in awe, as Johnny prodded him in the shoulder, for purposes unknown. The super soldier merely rocked back slightly on his feet, then forward again, only to the return the gesture. Tony chuckled at the sight, having anticipated since Ben had announced their plans to meet up.

"Maybe I'm like, a distant relative of yours, you know, like really distant." Johnny's face lit up, and the tiny flicker in his hand grew, dancing and hissing.

"That would be so totally awesome! Dude, maybe we can get the science guys to team up, do a DNA test time or something! Just imagine if the Human Torch is related to Captain America! By the way, you don't mind if I try the whole hair thing sometime, do you? It looks good on you, and your practically me, so you know, be pretty radical, if we were just walking along, same haircut and clothes, we could freak so many people out! Cause so many pranks!" Tony jabbed Bruce in the ribs with a sharp elbow, a feared-by-most-because-it-meant-Tony-had-an-idea grin worn by his lips.

"Just me who thinks it'd be a pretty funny thing, introducing Johnny to Loki sometime? We could have prank wars!" Bruce gaped at Tony, at how quickly his mood had swung from anxious to normal-Tony. It astounded the scientist just how many mood swings Tony underwent, never seeming to stick to one emotion for a prolonged period of time. Maybe it was just him, maybe it was a way to keep attention focused on him, to try and win over the love he thought he'd never had as a kid, maybe it was a way to cover up just what he was feeling. Never the less, it was still quite a thing to see.

Bruce himself, was rather looking forward to meeting Ben, for out of all of the Fantastic Four, Ben was probably the one he would be able to empathize with most, because deep down, they weren't that different. What people regarded a hero in both of them, they saw as a monster, an abomination, something beyond their control. And maybe, if he could, he'd help Ben. Even if it was only for an hour, or a day, maybe he could reverse the process, give Ben his own body back. Because that was something he had that Ben didn't: he knew that at the end of the day, he'd change back to good old Bruce, and the Hulk would be under wraps for a while again, whereas for Ben, he was always the Thing. He never had a break from the jeers and fear, despite being a world renowned superhero.

A slight thump outside drew them out of the small talk between themselves, alerting them that the rest of the Fantastic Four had arrived. Tony strode out, confidence in his step, just in time to catch Reed helping Susan out of the craft (which he desired to examine at a later point, some points of which fascinated him), her hand draped lightly in his. It reminded Tony of young love, of the first time he fell in love, him and… Pepper… When they'd broke it off, he still loved her as much as the day before, and the day before that, but it was for her safety. She kept getting caught up between him and the villains, used as leverage, blackmail, and Tony knew, no matter how much it hurt him, if he truly loved her, he'd let her go, for one day, he wouldn't get there in time to save her. In the end, it had worked out better than he'd hoped. He relented to his feelings for Bruce, and Pepper had moved on too, and got engaged, and they were still close friends. In his heart, he knew he had residual feelings for her: who wouldn't after so long and so much together? But the pain of letting her go had faded to a dull throbbing, and it was bearable. It wasn't like he didn't know how to cope with pain.

Ben thundered past, clearly as ready for 'clobbering time' as he ever would be, and Bruce chased after him. Tony accompanied Reed and Susan inside, both of whom looked rather worried about the current situation. Heck, Tony was worried enough, and he hadn't dealt with the nutcase half as many times as these. But the billionaire had come to the conclusion that he was more fearful of anxious, angry Thor than Doctor crazy-ass Doom.

"So, how did you deal with Doom in the past?" Tony questioned, glancing between Susan and Reed. He thought it best to ask them instead of go with his usual plan of attack, simply being attack. Normally, that only worked when he was certain he could kick the ass in question, or when he was feeling especially cocky, and desired to show off.

"With luck. He gets stronger each time, having developed his gauntlets further, or made done progress in his dark art research. At first, it was through working together, pulling out his weaknesses and all honing in on them. But the last few times, we've only just gotten through alive." Steve, who had taken quite a liking to his hot-headed doppelgänger, had caught snippets of what Reed said, and his face fell. If he managed to even begin to understand Loki's power before they reached, they were, essentially, all doomed. Yes, that was Steve's excuse for his anxious behaviour.

There was a crackle in the distance, followed by a blinding flash of yellow tainted light, and there wasn't a person in the room who hadn't turned to face it, watching a storm unfurl through glass walls.

"Guys," Clint said, barely paying attention to his tongue, "Where's Thor?"

"He said he was going to his room briefly," Steve replied, a piece of information he knew to be invalid.

"Fuck. I thought Loki was the one who lied." Tony flinched slightly as the sky rumbled again. Apparently, they may have to use his typical plan of attack.

"Does he even know where Latveria is?" The heavens roared out again, and by that point, they knew that it was undeniably the God of Thunder who was summoning the storm.

"Probably not. But do you think that would stop him?" The air hung silent for a moment, apart from the growing patter of rain on the glass.

"We've got to catch up with him."

* * *

Mjolnir pulled him forwards, through the rain and the thunder. Not a storm he'd deliberately concoted, but a result of his tangled emotions. It just... happened. Thor winced as a stray, cold droplet hit his face, so different from the mocking warmth of tears. His helmet stopped the majority from hitting his face, obscuring his view. His feathers, Loki called them, so he'd replied with an equally fitting retaliation of cow. It was common banter between, back then, mocking each others helmet. Tht memory was the last time Thor could remember them getting along, like brothers, before it all went downhill, and it was so long ago.

His eyes scanned across the ground below him, as he used the same tactic he'd been using over the months they thought Loki had escaped, only this time, his eyes flitted quicker in vain. He'd traversed a whole realm by foot before, looking for his beloved brother, and if he had to, would do do willingly again.

* * *

**A/N**

**So, no comic-verse aspects in here, except for those mentioned in previous chapters. Thank you a ton to those adding to favourites, subscribing and reviewing, and please, continue to do so. Each time I get an email saying someone has subscribed, or added to favourites, or reviewed,you wouldn't believe how massive and goofy my smile is. So go on! Drop some feedback! You know you want to!**


	16. Appearance

Metal struck metal, a repetitive clinking, as yet another mortal strode into the room. This one was different: his chin was tilted upwards slightly, his hand held behind his back, each step confident and reassured, like royalty. But not a born prestigiousness, his shoulders were pushed slightly too far back, his eyes too ridden with hatred, sorrow and anger.

A metal mask covered his face, only slanted slits allowing his eyes to be seen. The physical facade was permanent contorted into a rather fearful snarl, one of which would chill any normal person to the core. A emerald green cloak draped across his shoulders, held together by two golden clasps and a chain, a hood extending off, draped atop the mask. Gauntlets ran over the lower half of his arms, reflecting the little light within the room, regularly cleaned. Definitely pretentious. And the rest of his body was fitted out in a similar manner, making him appear dauntingly larger than what he probably was.

"Mr Laufeyson." The glare he earned was enough to warn him that he was stepping on uneven ground. "Odinson?" The glare intensified, and had he not been frequently on the end of such glares, would've bore through him, into his soul, he feared. If he had one left. "Interesting. How would you prefer I addressed you?"

"Loki will suffice. Or, if you are a mortal with your wits about you, which I doubt, almighty god is more appropriate." He smirked slightly, his lips itching with anticipation. It had been far too long a period of time since he had sparred with words: his most dangerous weapon. "Seeing as you already have the honour of knowing my name, would it be too much to ask if I wished for you to return the gesture?"

"Doctor Doom. Or you may refer to me as Victor, _almighty god_." The words dripped with sarcasm, smothered in a false ideology of adoration. The demi-god's smirk grew: a worthy opponent for combat of wit and intelligence, albeit a bit crazy.

"Is that not incredibly cliché, _Victor_? But, on second thoughts, this entire situation has been incredibly cliché. Was the torture an attempt to wear me down? Crack me? Oh, and a pointer for if we ever encounter in such a scenario again: don't attempt to trick the trickster. Did you honestly think, that by clothing your 'henchmen' in suits, and placing a SHIELD logo on the wall, you would fool me? Poor attempt, dear Victor, even my imbecile of a brother could pull off something more convincing." Of course the torture had worn him down: he may be a god, but even then he couldn't sustain incredible amounts of pain. Only enhanced. And it was mentally how he'd been worst affected. The jibes, the continual stream of lies, to the point where lies and truth blended into one thing, and no difference existed.

"Your tongue is sharper. Why, silver tongue, do you speak fearlessly? I wish for explanations." The gravelly tone of Victor lurked in the atmosphere, like sandpaper, rough.

"And explanations I will not give. But it would be thoughtful of you to remove these cuffs," Loki shook his wrists behind him to add emphasis, "For they have failed miserably, if the point was to surpress my magic." Loki tilted his head to the side slightly, quirking an eyebrow, knowing he was pushing his luck. "Though, I could just remove them myself, save troubling you so." There was a soft click as they unlocked, and fell to the floor. "Quite useless, aren't you?"

"Doesn't matter..." came the strained reply, Victor clearly having trouble suppressing his annoyance. He twisted his head to the side in a similar manner to Loki, and the demi-god could've swore the corners of the metal frown twisted upwards into a twisted grimace. "I've never had a... live test subject before..." A chill ran down the tricksters spine as it dawned upon just why he was here: to act as a lab rat for a megalomaniacal mortal, with a penchant for 'foreign' things. Essentially, a dark Tony Stark. And that was most certainly something to be feared.

"Now, Mr Laufeyson," Von Doom snarled, "If you don't mind, I wish to commence with my second experiment. I can't ever hope to understand your possession of magic if first, I do not understand you." The metal-clad figure departed the room, an echoing leaving his mark behind. Loki stretched his arms out in front of him, and without realising, ran his hands over raw wrists. His eyes glanced about the room anxiously, looking for some sign of what the 'second experiment' was.

A chill grew in the air, and instinctively, Loki wrapped his arms around himself, covering his torso. He slowly stood up, or tried to, as one leg collapsed under his weight, forcing a whimper out between his lips. It would've been more, had his throat not grown tired of screams, and his hand moved to feeling his leg, until he happened upon what definitely felt like a break. That he'd forgotten about. Right. Even the slightet pressure caused a wince, so he pushed himself into the corner of the room, bringing his knees into his chest, broken leg lagging behind, in an attempt to stay warm. The temperature continued to drop, and panic had lined his mind, as he watched the tips of his fingers turn a sickening, unnatural blue.

* * *

**A/N**

**And here we visit our good friend! I could see Loki, despite feeling mentally broken, putting in this front when faced with Victor, if only to irritate him and gain some shallow enjoyment from it. But in reality, he's playing with time, simply keeping his fingers crossed that it won't take Thor, or Steve long to find him, because he's genuinely not sure how much more he can take.**

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	17. Lightning

"Tony, Johnny, you guys go off ahead, try to catch up with Thor! We'll catch up with you in Reed's…" Steve peered out of the glass wall, frowning at the spectacle which he couldn't sum up with words, "…flying thing if it's big enough…" The original authority in his voice had faded out, drifted away after his slight stutter in continuity, but the others overlooked the stumble. There was a bright flash as Johnny jumped from the platform, shouting out his trademark "Flame on!" to all who could hear. Tony followed rather quickly behind him, refusing to make some form of snide remark as the rotating disks assembled the Iron Man suit around him as he moved. Arms pressed tight to his sides, he mimicked Johnny's actions, jumping, then igniting the boosters in his gauntlets and boots. Why was a question only Tony had the answer to: he could have simply ignited the boosters whilst standing, but chose to jump instead. Maybe for the thrill, however short-lived it was.

"It can easily carry us all. Don't you guys need to suit up though?" Clint and Natasha glanced at each other, Steve having already made his decision as his feet carried him towards his room. He pulled the closet doors back, and smiled slightly to himself, his hand running over the faded shield. The metal stood intact, not a scratch upon the actual shield, but the paint had faded, scraped away from many a conflict, his trusty choice weapon in hand. It had never failed him before, acting as the perfect defence, and an unsuspected object of assault. It held so many memories, each scratch on the paintwork simply painting another picture of Steve's complicated, and frankly violent, past. He pulled it out, gripping on the edge, and slipped his hand through the handles on the back, pulling it in close to his chest.

Clint had made a similar decision, a steady firm hand wrapping around the neck of his bow, specialised quiver slung over his back, loaded with his arrowheads. He strapped on his armguard, and with a flick of his rest, the bow opened, and he pulled back a null arrow, and released, a test to make sure it was strung properly. The arrow hit the spot he aimed for, cutting through the air effortlessly, and he retrieved the arrow body, a dark smile on the marksman's face in delight of being put to test again.

Natasha, during the period of time on which the two aforementioned Avengers fussed over their weapons of choice, changed into her trademark leather catsuit, utility belt draped around her waist, hanging off her hips, and a handgun strapped to both of her upper thighs. It wasn't down to vanity, a desire to look good whilst fighting, but more because it was her most flexible piece of attire, and in all honesty, the one she felt most comfortable fighting in. Out of all the Avengers (excluding Tony, who was an Avenger due to his suit, and Thor who didn't appear to wear anything other than his armour) Natasha had grown most attached to her uniform, and combat in something different just didn't feel… right.

Bruce had remained where he stood. He was a scientist, nothing more. He let the 'other guy' worry about the fights, and he worried about the science and statistics. In all honesty, he still thought along the path of him and the 'other guy' being two different consciences, two different creatures, for one had no control whatsoever over the other. The only real link, Bruce noted, was the physical body they both resided in, ironically enough, a lot like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, one of Bruce's favourite stories as a child. So he stood still, and stole glances at the other remarkable people in the room: Reed Richards, with an unnaturally long arm wrapped around his wife; Susan Storm, whose fingertips were slowly fading from view in an attempt to quell her impatience; Ben Grimm, who towered over them, and frowned, the sadness apparent in his eyes each time he thought no-one was looking.

Bruce himself began to pace the room, when Natasha arrived first, fully changed, hand instinctively resting upon the handle of one of her guns. He smiled slightly at the thought that, had Tony been there, he would've remarked how women were supposed to take longer getting changed. Then Steve sprinted back into the room, trusty shield at arms, and Bruce couldn't help suppress a snigger when he noticed that Steve hadn't even changed. So when Clint finally arrived, gaze steely and bow, now retracted, in hand, Bruce chuckled. Ben had apparently caught on, and cracked a grin himself, a displacement from his earlier expression.

"We ready?" Steve nodded, taking his natural leader role within the group once more, and led the way, noticing how the small cluster had split, those of similar abilities and/or circumstances walking beside each other. He'd quickened his pace slightly, heading the group alongside Reed. Natasha had dropped back slightly, beside Susan, both of whom appeared engaged in some form of discussion. Bruce and Ben walked together towards the back, a faint smile upon the lips of both, a clear friendship blossoming between the two who felt rejected by society. And Clint walked alone at the back, having adopted his normal sociopathic, introverted behaviour when focused. His eyes scanned across most anything, mainly upon the frequent lightning strikes in the distance. His brow creased slightly, and Steve realised he was worried too, but not for the same reason. He figured Clint was most likely worried due to having an angry Norse God of Thunder on the rampage, with a desire for revenge and reunion, whereas Steve fretted about the wellbeing of the other Norse God they were associated with. A little too worried for just a concerned acquaintance. Or just a concerned friend.

Faces watched through windows at the spectacle, the unrecognised craft departing from Avengers Tower; the raging thunderstorm, most everyone having evacuated the streets, out of the torrential downpour; Iron Man and the Human Torch flying side by side. It was quite the spectacle, two of the most renowned superhero teams working in alliance, and provoked a fair bit of curiosity and fear within onlookers. Steve was essentially doing the same, hands pressed up against one of the windows, shield propped up against the side, as the engine roared into action. A flash from a worryingly close strike caused him to jump back slightly, but otherwise, he never faltered from such a position, heart thumping in anticipation.

* * *

"Tony, is that Thor over there?" A flaming hand pointed forward, each droplet of rain like a thorn prick to Johnny. Not necessarily painful, but quite an annoyance when it was constant. Tony looked forward towards where Johnny pointed, JARVIS zooming in for him. The flicker of red was enough to convince him that it was the demi-god's cape, and he could've swore he heard the Aesir curses from his position.

"I think so. You take the right, I'll take the left. We need to try and get him to slow down, at least long enough for us to regroup. It's not going to do us any good to go up against this Doom guy separately." Johnny gave a thumbs up, and the heat emitting from him intensified as he accelerated slowly. Tony watched as Johnny moved ahead of him as he glanced over the map, marking out their position, and the relative position of the aircraft Reed was controlling. "JARVIS, I want all power into the thrusters. Close down the interface if you need to, I just want this baby to glide through the air like it was born for nothing else."

"Of course, sir. All power had been directed to the thrusters. You are currently at 92% charge, sir." Tony nodded, an acknowledgement to the AI, and grinned as he accelerated, swiftly levelling out with Johnny again. He'd always treated everything as a competition, a game, and he wasn't going to stop now.

Droplets rolled down the plates of gold and red, and Tony had begun to wish he'd installed some sort of window wiper-style things. Maybe on the Mark IX suit. It'd make a nice change, as each upgrade lately had been something subtle and basic, whereas designing some form of concealed wipers could be quite the fun pastime. He averted his gaze from Johnny, who had responded to his childish challenge with delight, to back ahead, where the figure in front slowly came into focus, and the outline of Mjolnir raised into the skies could be made out.

"Thor!" he shouted out, in a vain attempt over the thunder and rain, and so resorted to boosting the power again in the boosters, Johnny having just caught him up. "JARVIS, I want you to amplify the power to the thrusters. Absolutely everything is to go to them, and I want to accelerate faster." There was a slight pause before the AI replied with:

"I don't recommend that, sir. You will use power faster than what the suit can recharge, and will only be able to sustain such a feat for 1 hour, 23 minutes." Tony smirked.

"Then do it. That's plenty enough time, JARVIS." Almost immediately, he felt a jolt forward, and Thor came into sight quicker, Tony only just noticing the sparks jumping of Mjolnir, provoking fear and curiosity in equal proportions. No matter what, the scientist side of him could never be suppressed, and such an occurrence begged to be investigated. "Thor!" he shouted out again, apparently still too great a distance between them, despite it narrowing continuously.

"I don't think he can here you, dude, and maybe you haven't noticed, but the rain is getting a hell of a lot heavier the closer we get to him, and it's absolute murder! You're not a fireball flying through the rain !" His voice wasn't raised in irritation, but more out of an effort to get Tony to hear him, the thunder intensifying beyond belief.

"No shit Sherlock…" Tony muttered before turning his head towards Johnny. "How you holding up anyway? You seem to be dimming down a bit!" It was true: the light emitting from Johnny had dropped, alongside the heat, making it more bearable to fly beside him, but rather worrying for the billionaire.

"I don't know! Like I said, it's murder, and I'm not sure how much faster I can go without the chance of just extinguishing myself! I wouldn't normally care, but Sue said she'd kill me if I die!"

"You just hang back there then, and I'll go and catch the godly hair advertisement! Shouldn't be too long, and I'll ask him to tone down his raging storm just for you, flame head!" Johnny grinned, and slowed slightly, whilst Tony focused on his goal ahead. He was never one to just give up, under any circumstances, even as his power levels dropped at a rather alarming speed.

* * *

"I do hope Tony's alright..." Bruce's mumbled remark prompted a raised eyebrow from the marksman, the nearest to him, but he didn't question it, merely allowing it to continue as if he hadn't heard a word. Steve remained pressed against the window, trying to watch as best he could the occurrence outside, but between his breath fogging up the glass and the rain severly lowering visibility, he could barely make out the building they were flyin past, never mind Tony and Johnny god knows how far ahead.

Without even realising or thinking, Steve's lips parted, longing for contact. His brow furrowed, his hands pressed harder on the glass, and his heart pounded, leaving him feeling completely and utterly useless. For a moment, his fingers parted, a desire for someone to intertwine theirs with his, like Bruce and Tonybas they walked. And beneath his breath, out of earshot of most everyone on the aircraft, he let out words he didn't know he had.

"Hang on Loki, just, hang on. I will find you."

* * *

**A/N**

**Pre-warning to you guys: next week I have work experience, so updates may be slightly slower than usual, and I apologise sincerely for that! Again, no comic aspects in this chapter, completely movie-verse, though there was one reference to something else, which I'd like to see if people pick up on :)**

**Thanks to everyone supporting this story through subscribing, adding to favourites, and reviewing! I can't thank you enough, and can only ask of you to click the button below, and leave me some feedback! Thank you!**


	18. Storms

**A/N  
A word of warning, ahead there is a rather angsty, swearing-filled rampage from the point of view from one of the characters. Just a pre-warning. Oh, and the movie reference last chapter was to one of Robert Downey Jr's other roles as Sherlock, referenced when Tony says 'No shit Sherlock.' Gosh I'm sad.**

"Thor!" Tony kicked at the boosters, the demi-god ahead so teasingly close, his cape just out of reaching distance. He growled as Thor continued ahead, either unfazed or simply ignoring him, and kicked again, the boosts in power jolting his slightly further forward, increasing his pace in tantalizingly small jumps.

"Sir, I recommend you slow down. Power levels are currently at 48%, and are dropping rapidly. You only have 12 minutes left at this pace before the suit ceases function." Tony's brow furrowed in confusion, and annoyance at the AI, but the kicks didn't cease.

"Fucking hell, JARVIS! You told me I had, like an hour before! What the hell happened to 90-odd%? Isn't there any way you can, I don't know, make the arc reactor function to recharge this thing quicker?" Tony winced as a flash of light came from in front, followed by another crack of thunder, and wondered just how long this game of cat and mouse had gone on for.

"I was forced to re-power stabilisers sir, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to continue flying in such weather conditions, and I had to reactivate shields to prevent the suit from overheating due to Johnny Storm, and I believe you do not require me to answer that question sir. You frequently inform me that you are a 'genius'." Oh, well, if it wasn't bad enough before, chasing down a bloody demi-god through a bloody storm because another bloody demi-god decided to get himself bloody caught by a bloody supervillain. Oh no, he had to have an argument with a bloody sarcastic artificial intelligence program which he bloody well made.

"You know what JARVIS? You need to pay me back now. Take down the shields, and make me feel like Pietro Maximoff. I want to overtake Thor's godly ass now." The corner of his mouth quirked up as the suit jerked forward again, and he just laughed when a frowny face appeared of the visual display, courtesy of JARVIS. Seriously though, Tony never programmed JARVIS to be sarcastic, so where the hell had he learnt his master's most treasured skill?

"Thor!" He shouted out again, and the blonde hair whipped around as piercing blue eyes, writhing in anger and fear and love, fell upon him. As the Iron Man suit passed besides the demi-god, staring intently at each movement, Tony felt awkward under such a glare, and wondered how Thor, the cute puppy-eyed thunderer, had even come to acquire such a glare.

"What is it you seek, Man of Iron?" There was no 'friend Stark', or friendly greetings, and not even a hint of amiability within his twisted voice. The moment his voice ceased to echo across the heavens, throughout the grey clouds shrouding them, a clap of thunder rung out, and died down as quickly as it came, leaving them in an eerie silence, barring the pitter patter of the rain.

"We're coming to help, Thor. We just want to help. Look back. Look at Johnny, following us, and then further back, the rest of our team and Johnny's, all on a jet. Just slow down. We can only get through this together. We can't strike at Doom separately: that would literally be asking for our doom. Just, wait up." The rain lightened up slightly, but the glare remained, as if Thor was looking straight through the iron mask. Tony had only just noticed how sodden the demi-god was: how his hair clung to his skin, and his armour rubbed against exposed flesh, chafing the skin away. On his right arm, the armour had broken through the skin, a thin stream of blood running down muscle bound limbs.

"Do not attempt to deceive me, Stark. You would not hesitate to leave my brother in that monster's clutches. Neither of you hold obligations toward each other, and you despise Loki." His voice was laced with venomous anger, and the sparks dancing around Mjolnir grew increasingly violent, until lightning struck down on the famed hammer. Tony's eye widened slightly, and he felt his throat tighten as the statement, or accusation in some senses, touched, or rather struck on a sensitive point.

"Thor. I would never, and I mean never, leave someone with a twisted bastard like Doom, or any twisted bastard in that sense. I might not play well with others, certainly not your little brother, but there is no way in Asgard, Midgard and Niffleheim that I would just turn a blind eye to, torture." Thor noticed the hesitation, if only slight, on Tony's part in speaking his apparent taboo word, and it provoked the slightest bit of curiosity within his enraged mind as to why Tony seemed so affected by such a topic. He knew little of Tony's past, apart from the little snippets he'd caught from past discussions, generally between Natasha and Nick.

"Why should I believe your word, Tony Stark? It may be as false as many a thing you have spoken previous to now. Believe me, Tony Stark, if you are actually feeding me falsehoods, and continue to do so, I shall exact my vengeance upon you after I have recovered Loki, for I shall be most irate." There was a sharp intake of breath inside the iron suit, and Tony's nostrils flared as he realised there was only one way to win over the god's trust, and he was most certainly not going to enjoy it.

"You want to know why, Mr Thunder? Because…" he gritted his bared teeth, his mind urging him on, "because I went through the same fucking thing. Not for my magic, or whatever, but for something I had, I was fucking tortured. Waterboarding, beating, mental, physical, you fucking name it, and it bloody well happened. I still wake up at night in sweats, thinking I'm back in that damned cave, all because of something I had. Ask Bruce if you don't believe me: many a time he's had to hold me while I break down like a fucking three year old scared of the damn dark. That's why I'm not going to stand by: because I would never wish such an experience on anyone. Not even your fucking twat of a brother, so slow the hell down, and turn off your bloody temper tantrum storm, because you're going to fucking kill Johnny back there if you keep it up." His outburst left him in pants, the corners of his eyes moist with tears he would deny, from memories he would failingly push out of his mind again. The visual display flashed at him again, demanding he stopped, only 5% power left. He groaned, a snarl playing on his lips. "Oh, and hit me with one of your magical lightning bolts, make JARVIS piss off."

A final lightning bolt ran over red and gold as the rain died down, the grey clouds breaking directly above them. Above the jet, there was a short lived moment of cheer and happiness, blissfully unaware of the vicious silence between two of their fellow heroes, or how the storm had come to vanish as quickly as it came. The sky was still dark, being night, but the sight of the tiny dots of light in the sky made Johnny smile as he took the flight easy, eventually catching up with them, childishly ignorant of the tension that hung, quite literally, in the air.

**A/N  
Pietro Maximoff – Also known as Quicksilver, Pietro is the mutant son of Magneto and brother of Wanda, the Scarlett Witch. Quicksilver's power, as you may have guessed, is being incredibly fast, and I mean, INCREDIBLY fast.**

**Niffleheim – This is another of the Norse realms, home to Hell. Essentially, Tony was saying in a way Thor would understand ' There is no way in heaven, Earth or hell.' Yes, Tony has done his mythology research**

**Thank you guys for supporting me so much, I love you all, and please continue to review, it really makes my day! Thank you again!**


	19. Pirate

Reed was more than a little taken aback when the polite, female navigation voice directing him morphed into that of a deep-toned, rather stern sounding man, which, instead of directing him, appeared to be scolding him. It took a moment for the scientist to realise that, rather than imagining it as he had first thought, the others actually heard the voice as well. He felt their presences, crowded around him, all appearing to look in one direction, which he traced with his own eyes, down to the GPS screen.

"Thank you Reed, Mr Fantastic, Elasta Man or whatever you swing with now. Nice of you to finally join us." The tone was rather condescending, like how an adult would speak to a child. And then it clicked. Right. Nick Fury. Director of SHIELD, and the guy who sanctioned all his experiments. Or, as Tony liked to call him, 'the angry pirate'.

"Now, because this 'mission', which I haven't authorised, involves Doom, I have no choice but to ignore your stupid ass decision of rescuing the demi-god in distress," his lips pursed slightly as his eyes flitted across each one of the present combined teams. "However, and I stress however, if any of you do something stupid, like accidently destroy a town or something, and don't tell me that's far-fetched, because I know what immature super idiots are capable of, it is all on your own backs. SHIELD is not taking any responsibility for this, and nor is SHIELD cleaning up after your sorry asses. All we can do is turn a blind eye."

"Not exactly hard for you then," Clint muttered under his breath, earning himself a jab in the ribs from Natasha, though she smirked a little at the comment. She had never particularly liked Fury: she was just smarter than to express such views, and being a super spy renowned for being cold and emotionless, it wasn't hard to pretend she could stand him. Clint, on the other hand, had always been one for making snide remarks where possible. Being a super spy renowned for having a rather large mouth, Fury hadn't always missed the comments, either, and always had several creative punishments at the ready.

"And just a heads up, because I'm _so nice like that_," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I've bugged Tony's suit, and he's pretty pissed off right now. Apparently, he doesn't have a fear of being toasted to smithereens by the wrath of an irate god. Must say, I'm rather disappointed myself that Thor didn't do his godly thing. Would've certainly saved me a lot of trips to the medical bay from high blood pressure. Anyway, to round it up, kick Doom's ass, grab Princess Peach of Mischief, and do it without destroying every-fucking-thing in a 20 mile radius. Got it?" The screen switched back to the GPS directions, rather amusingly like one found in cars, but Bruce's eyes looked straight ahead, through the window, rather anxiously.

Tony, on the other hand, smiled slightly, as revenge was a sweet meal. Nick, very foolishly thought he'd outdone Tony, but being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, Tony had adjusted the bug to transmit both ways, so he heard everything said by Nick Fury as well. His mind wandered through various mischievous forms of exacting his revenge, until the perfect song was found, and his smile increased tenfold. In all honesty, he was simply distracting himself from the lingering silence, and the dark memories still lurked at the front of his mind, refusing to back down.

"JARVIS, dear, hack SHIELD's security. Absolutely all of it. Tell me when you're done." Barely a moment had passed before the AI replied.

"Completed sir. What is it you wish me to do?"

"Every single computer, and every speaker, anything that can make noise, I want 'You Are A Pirate' playing on repeat, full blast. Lock it so no-one can stop it, I want to get on Nick's tits." He grinned like an idiot, rather content with his deed. "And open up a video call with Reed's jetty-plane thing." If anything, he had to commend JARVIS on speed, as a mere moment passed before the tune of 'You Are A Pirate' could be heard through the reversed bug, then on the visual interface, a screen came up, Reed looking otherwise occupied.

"Reed! Dude, long time no see! Not really, I mean, what's it been? Like, an hour already? How far away is Lat-whatever the hell it's called?" Reed jumped a little, rather surprised at the quick succession of disturbances, then crinkled his brow, backing up from the extreme close up of his science acquaintance.

"I thought you were, you know, angry. That's what Nick said anyway…" He paused a moment, his fingers flitting across the GPS screen. "Aaaaand, we're just past half way. Lights will have to go off soon. If Doom even sees us, we're dead. When I say he runs a dictatorship, I mean it. Last person who tried to escape, a good few years ago, was killed on the spot. No-one's allowed in or out without permission, and he's enforced curfews and secret service police patrolling the streets. It's essentially a maximum security prison. That's why we," he motioned towards Ben and Susan, "have never tried to break in before. We might have superpowers, but against his fortified country, we don't stand a chance. Together, though, we might just liberate a country in the process." Tony nodded, his smile dropping for just a moment, until he caught Bruce grinning at him in the background, which caused the corners of his lips to quirk up again.

"Okay, so stealth mode then. Sure, I can do that. Probably. And I was pissed off, to put it how Fury put it. But now Fury is the pissed off one, and I am rather pleased with myself." Bruce's smile dropped at that, knowing that whatever Tony had done, they were all going have to pay for at some point.

"Tony, what have you done?" Natasha's hands rested upon her hips, one eyebrow raised in a way which would've appeared seductive on most women, but on Natasha, looked rather terrifying, as it often represented moments where she was contemplating different methods of killing you, from quick and painless, to the slow, painful, hellish deaths.

"Well, the SHIELD helicarrier is now in lockdown, with 'You Are A Pirate' on repeat, no way of stopping it." Clint threw his head back in raucous laughter, Ben slapping a hand on his back, an amused grin residing upon his face. Clint winced as the noise echoed throughout the jet, but continued to laugh.

"Tony Stark, you will be the death of us!" Tony grinned at the remark, glad he'd lightened the atmosphere slightly, all through irritating the hell out of secret division directors, when a rather deep, sorrowful voice from beside him spoke out.

"I, uh apologise for my earlier behaviour, Tony Stark. I was worried, and I was angry, and I still am, but it gave me no excuse to accuse you of anything. Could I ask something of you, though, friend Stark? Could you put me in call to Steve Rodgers, please?" It was only then Tony noticed how Steve stood towards the back, from his view, head hung and hands wrapped around each other, slumped against the wall. His lips parted slightly as his mind ran through endless possibilities for Steve's refusal to engage in social interaction, unable to find anything viable.

"Uh, it's okay, sorry I kind of ranted at you buddy. I didn't mean to, it's just a… touchy topic… But, honestly, you'd be quicker actually going to the jet, it's only a few minutes back now, and it's not easy to miss, look for the flame head circling it. I'll drop back with you if you like." Thor smiled slightly, forcing it onto his lips, and nodded. "Reed, you still there? You've got incoming in the form of a godly walking hair advert. Open up for him, will you? He wants to talk to Steve."

* * *

It wasn't long until Reed heard the thump on the jet, and he shouted for everyone to hold onto something, his arm wrapping around everyone at least once, his other stretching back to the manual open lever, bright red and impossible to miss. He made sure his grip on bother the passengers and the lever was firm, before he pulled down, a great lump of armour and blonde hair tumbling in through the door, Mjolnir sliding across the floor. He pulled the door back shut, and rather reluctantly, retracted his other arm, but only once certain the door was shut.

Thor pushed himself up, a hand running through his hair, moving it out of his face. One hand, open and outreaching, lifted Mjolnir into his steady grasp again. His deep blue eyes immediately fixed themselves upon Steve, who persisted in avoiding eye contact, and he strode over, ignoring the confused glances from most everyone else.

"Friend Steve, I have an assault plan, but I require your help to pull it off. If I am right in understanding what I have heard my friends speak of, this Doctor of Doom shall have a rather large offensive team prepared, should anyone launch an attack, as a diversion. I propose that, considering I trust in the ability of my friends, we move behind the lines into the actual facility whilst they handle the glorious conquest and liberation." Steve nodded, his interest in what Thor had to say slowly growing as he bit down on his lip.

"But, why me? Why not Tony, who can fly as well, or Natasha, who is probably far stealthier than the rest of us, no offence Clint." Thor rubbed his fingers across the handle of Mjolnir as he searched for the right words to sum up what he wanted to say, in a simple fashion.

"Because Loki trusts you." The demi-god noticed the quick inhale of breath, and the gulp, as the super soldier glanced back down towards the floor. "So, friend Steve, if you will help me, I ask of you, climb on my back." It was then that Steve looked up in alarm, an action mimicked by both Susan and Clint, who were listening in.

"What?"

"Climb on my back, Steve Rodgers. I shall allow you to ride me, you know, like you ride a horse." Clint couldn't help supress the series of sniggers that left his mouth, resulting in a rather confused demi-god. Thor decided that he didn't want to know what the marksman, with an incredibly dirty mind, he noted, was thinking of, and continued onwards. "I shall fly you down, for last time I checked, you did not fly. You seemed to prefer to jump from things and fall instead. So please, mount me." Clint was cackling by this point, and Steve, who wasn't far from looking like a tomato, did as told and climbed atop the thunderer. "Mr Fantastic, if you could be so kind as to allow us to leave, please," he bellowed out. Reed replicated his actions earlier, and within a flash of lightening and a growl of thunder, the demi-god and the soldier had left.

"Oh, and a word of warning, friend Steve. Hold on tight to me, for I would regret my actions should you fall, and I apologise for my cape and how uncontrollable it is. I shall ask Tony Stark to provide us with a signal of when to descend, but for now, please, relax, and enjoy the night." Steve laughed slightly at the madness of the situation, as he sat atop the Norse God of Thunder, sailing through the night on a rescue mission for another Norse God, one of which Steve had confusing feelings for, who'd been kidnapped by a power crazed dictator super villain. Oh, right, and he was Captain America. No matter how many times he said it in his head, or saw himself in the mirror, wearing the uniform, he couldn't help but grin like an idiot. It was rather exciting, after all, being the world's first superhero.

* * *

God knows how long had passed, or how long he'd been here. All he knew was it was darn cold, far colder than Jotunheim, and the temperature was still dropping, to the point where even in Jotun body, the chill pierced through his heart, sending shivers up his spine. It was like one big giant freezer, and damn it he hated the cold. It always brought back rather negative experiences he wouldn't mind ridding himself of forever.

The God of Mischief's eyes flicked upwards to the door, almost frozen over, as he heard something. What, he couldn't be sure, but he'd heard something, and something was rather damn terrifying when something had often resulted in some form of experiment or abuse. And he hated it even more that he even felt fear, as it was a weakness, and a weakness was something gods didn't have. They'd lowered him down to their pathetic mortal standards, a dithering wreck, and he didn't hate them as much as he hated himself for being so weak and submitting to such a way of living.

The sound rung out again, and the depths of emerald lit up as the sound registered as one ever so familiar. The cold suddenly felt bearable, to some extent, and the beautiful noise rung out again, louder than before. The beautiful sound of growling heavens. The inexplicably lovely thunder claps.

* * *

**A/N  
And it has started. Finally. Took long enough. By the way, that song that Tony plays to annoy Fury is a real song, just go search the title on youtube. Fantastic song. And yes, some tension still remains between Thor and Tony, it wasn't just going to dissipate as fast as it came along.**

**Thank you for all the support, the reviews, favourites and subscribes. It really means the world to me and I can't thank you all enough!**


	20. Fire And Ice

"You ready, Tony?" It didn't take more than a moment for Tony to reply to Reed, a huge grin spread across his face to accompany it.

"Oh fuck yes." Reed laughed slightly in return, his gaze fixed straight ahead. They now flew over Latveria, and by Reed's judgements, looking straight ahead at Victor's preferred area of operation, from residing in to dictating from. He'd figured so due to the flood lighting surrounding the compound, and the rather worrying number of Doombots on patrol, and chances were they weren't of the diplomat classification. Sure, they were a combined team of superheroes, beyond numbers of any other teams barring the X-Men, but one of those Doombots could hold its own against Ben Grimm, for gods sakes.

Ben, on the other hand, rather looked forward to pummelling the crap out of the Doom lookalikes. As his catchphrase said, 'It's clobbering time', and he was most certainly in the right mind set to partake in such a thing. And anyway, it'd be fun, having competition with Bruce on who could take down the most. Not that the Hulk would really be bothered about the childish competition. He'd simply pre-occupy himself with doing what he was best at, and 'Hulk smash' anything in his path. Bruce gritted his teeth together, as the pupils of his eyes began to take on a green tinge, the veins in his arms and neck throbbing, pulsating.

Clint ran his hand over his bow once more as the descent started, and pulled back on the string, releasing it with a slight twang. A mere reassurance before he took to a high spot and did what he did best: stay out of sight, and pluck the enemies off one by one. His hand came to rest, hanging by his side, and the corners of his mouth twisted upwards ever so slightly when Natasha slipped hers inside his for a brief moment, giving it a squeeze of re-assurance. She was looking straight ahead, as if unaware of what her hand was doing, and yet Clint not pulling away, even in front of their teammates, warmed her inside, calming the few nerves she had about the operation. Despite having years of experience, her stomach still twisted on certain missions, this being one of them.

Susan watched as her hands flickered from view, not deliberately. She felt the energy building up, running through her bloodstream, preparing itself. It worried her sometimes just how little control over her powers she bore, and how, one day, she might injure someone accidently, someone like Reed, the man she loved dearly, or her baby brother Johnny, or even Ben, who'd grown to be like an older brother to her. Reed pushed the steering wheel backwards, causing the plane to lurch forwards. He took a deep breath, and bore a stone cold expression as the plane descended, the compound seemingly growing in front of him. It wouldn't be long till the Doombots noticed them now. Not long at all.

Johnny flew behind the jet now, alongside Tony, ready to move once given the word. All the childish playfulness had long left his temperaments. Johnny had learnt long ago that war was essentially a game, but not one for children. War was no place for children, as was any form of battlefield. Tony had limited his pace now, turning off applications currently unnecessary, like the shields, to save power and help the suit recharge. He may be one of a relatively immature way of thinking, especially for one of such recognition and power, but he knew better than to go into a fight unprepared. Damn he'd taken a beating that time. The power levels read 72%, a far cry from the earlier percentage, but still lower than Tony would prefer. Heck, he'd prefer 100% if possible, but, as long as it was above 60%, it could sustain him for beyond the duration of a normal fight.

The ground was closing in on them a rapid pace, and Reed knew he was running out of time. He wanted to keep the element of surprise on their side, but he didn't want to strike too early, and risk exposing them to firing bullets. He'd had plenty of experience with Doombots, and knew first hand just how heavily kitted out they were in the assault department. Under scrutinising glare, the compound loomed ahead, and his nostrils flared slightly as he made the decision.

"Go! Go!" Tony swerved out from behind the jet, his palm faced towards a patrol team, and he pulled back slightly, the resulting energy blast jarring his arm. The explosion of blue light down below certainly attracted attention, as he'd hoped, distracting from jet momentarily. The back doors were smashed down, without any care, and Bruce jumped, morphing through the air, in a beautifully grotesque demonstration of science. His veins rippled and bulged out, followed by his muscles, as his size doubled. The scientist threw his head back, screaming out in some form of angered pain, as the final stages passed, and tiny green eyes, encompassed by an huge, disproportioned body, darted about, analysing the situation as to who to smash first. And as the huge monster ran, his tufts of black hair spread across his forehead, a menacing smile on his face. The Hulk had joined the fight.

Ben followed Bruce's exit at a lower altitude, hitting the ground with his fist facing downwards, leaving a crater with fissures rippling out of it at his point of impact. His face slowly turned upwards, his eyes fixed upon one Doombot, his rock lips curling backwards into a vicious snarl, as he made the move to ram his body, the Doombot retaliating with an uppercut to the face, catching Ben off guard. He'd forgotten how damn strong these buggers were. In his moment of hesitation, a blow to the stomach knocked him onto his back, and the Doombot loomed over him, a small gun of some form emerging from the metal wrist, aiming between his eyes. Ben pushed himself back slightly, and lifted his leg, ready to try and kick it away, when an arrow lodged itself within the head of the Doom imposter, and… imploded? Ben twisted his head towards the landing/crashing jet, to catch Hawkeye leaning out of one of the windows, bow in hand. The ex-wrestler saluted Clint, and received a nod of acknowledgement in reply, and a rather dark smile of glee.

"That. Was. So. Amazing! Tony needs to make me more of those!" Clint said to Natasha, his voice rising throughout the declaration. Natasha rolled her eyes, and upon noticing just how close to crash-landing they were, pulled him in through the window. She noticed Susan spreading her arms out, head tilted back, and the slight change to the surroundings almost immediately after, everything taking on a seemingly lighter colour. She'd heard about Susan's powers, but not how strong they were. When the jet ploughed through the ground though, without as much as a tremor, it was good enough to assume that running through her was a vast amount of untapped potential still waiting, as Susan teetered slightly, and fell backwards when her arms dropped back down, blonde locks falling across her face. Reed caught her with an outstretched arm, pulling her in to him, and within moments, the jet was clear, apart from Clint who sat perched atop it, making do with it being the highest surface he could access at the moment.

"So go on, which one of you is Victor Von Doom?" Johnny shouted from his hovering position, taunting them and their lack of understanding on that part. Victor had, very smartly, programmed them all to believe that they themselves were Doctor Doom, except for when they were in his presence, and Johnny had manipulated that to his advantage, using it to assess whether the real Victor resided within the growing numbers.

"I am Victor Von Doom," they all called out in sync, and Tony couldn't help but laugh a little at the spectacle. Who would actually program their copycat robots to not only look like the creator, but think like the creator too? Tony certainly wouldn't, for he wasn't prepared to share the Stark namesake with anyone (apart from Bruce), and many people would agree that one Tony is enough. Actually, to quote Natasha, 'One Tony is one too many'.

"Steve, do you copy? Time to move your spangled spandex-clad ass in now, Capsicle. , wait, poor Captain Spandex hasn't got his stars and stripes on!" He grinned as he heard the groan from the other line, his arm jarring again as another energy pulse was fired off at the seemingly indestructible plethora of Doombots.

"Rodger that. Over and out." Steve swore by using the official terminology whenever he was flying, as it was how he was taught, and it helped anchor him to the ground in such a strange century. And anyway, no-one had ever said it was only for when he was flying planes, of which the demi-god he sat atop wasn't. The earpiece was one of the pieces of modern technology he both understood and liked, making it so much easier for long distance communication in battle, like just for example.

They waited until a tell-tale stream of light blue energy appeared, and made their move. Thor lifted Mjolnir into the air, far above himself, commanding the heavens as he launched himself forwards, Steve gripping on tight as lightning struck around them, lighting the way, and thunder crackled in the skies, tearing through the encompassing silence. The rain began to fall again, but controlled, not wild with anger like before. The thunderer cut through the downpour, his steely mentality set, using the distraction to infiltrate the compound, by, rather stealthily, smashing his way through a wall, leaving a massive, tell-tale hole in his wake.

Steve was thrown from Thor's back as he fell through the hole, the super soldier twisting his body, catching the loose shield in his hand, the other on the floor to steady himself as he skidded backwards, facing the God of Thunder. Thor pushed a single golden lock out of his face, and glanced around his surroundings. Unpainted, dulled walls surrounded them, an uneven concrete floor beneath their feet, and an apparently reinforced metal door of some kind cutting them off from the rest of the building.

Not reinforced enough to stop Mjolnir though. The thrown hammer knocked the door straight off its hinges, then returned to Thor's open hand. Steve glanced across at the demi-god, then ran, straight through the open doorway, down the corridor, looking for something, anything to help them find Loki. Thor's heavy steps echoed down the passage, each like a thump, until Steve twisted round a corner, stopping dead still. Thor, being taller, peered over the top of the super soldier's head, his muscles tensing almost immediately when he did, his lips pulling back into a snarl.

Victor Von Doom stood ahead of them, his hands clenched together in a disturbingly innocent manner. Steve felt a shiver run through him as he looked his opponent up and down, from the disturbing metal mask, contorted into a constant grimace, to the all-encompassing armour, wrapping him from head to toe, the gauntlets most disturbing, and the hooded green cloak, adding the cliché super villain sense of mystery.

"Thor, go find Loki. Get him out of here. I'll deal with Doom." Steve didn't care for the odds as his fists balled up and his teeth clenched down. Doom tilted his head at the super soldier, as if curious to the behaviour he was displaying, his hands unwrapping themselves from around each other, only causing Steve to tense up further.

"But-"

"Thor, go." Steve didn't wait to contemplate to overwhelming urge to protect the younger demi-god, but had he done so, he would've realised just what compelled his emotions, and just why he was prepared to put his life on the line for someone, who last time they actually met, tried to kill him and his teammates. Instead, he lowered himself into a crouched stance, as if ready to pounce, watching every twitch of the culprit in front of him.

Thor needn't have be told again: he was more than confident his friend Steve could hold his own, even against someone like Victor Von Doom, and the thunderer wanted more than anything to get his brother out into safety, to protect him, like he should've done before. His footsteps echoed once more, thud after thud, as he searched desperately, resorting to using Mjolnir on every door he passed, checking each room individually. On the collapse of one door, a young man cowered inside, watching him fearfully.

"Who are you, human? Do not fear me, for I am Thor the Thunderer, and I shall only help if you do not threaten me." The man didn't move, and only persisted in watching him behind knees pulled up to his chest, the fright obvious in his eyes. "Remain here, mortal. You shall be safe, and we shall find you once the fight is done." Thor didn't hesitate in continuing his search upon pledging his promise to the mortal, sending doors clean off their hinges.

As he progressed, a cool chill in the air became obvious him, raising the hairs on his arms, to the point where it worried him, causing the God of Thunder to speed up his search, until he came upon a door, coated in frost and ice. He didn't hesitate in swinging Mjolnir harder than before, the door falling flat before him. He felt his stomach twist, both from horror and excitement from the sight: the young Jotun, sat on the floor, watching him anxiously.

"Brother!" Thor shouted, the most genuine smile he'd worn in a while growing on his lips, arms flinging wide open as he prepared to charge. Blue eyes met green, and the anxiousness was still present. Only this time, Thor saw fear wrapped around it too, and sorrow, and it became all too clear why when an arm snaked around his neck, and a swift, calculated blow to the top of the head causing the Asgardian to fall into a crumple at the feet of his attacker. Loki's mouth fell open ever so slightly, even such a small movement requiring effort in his state, and a tear rolled down blue skin as he watched helplessly. Well, almost helplessly. The metal mask seemed to contort into a disturbing, sickening smile once more, a megalomaniacal laugh the product of the deed.

* * *

Steve swung the shield into the side of Doom's head, barely fazing the villain, who retaliated with a blow across the jaw, drawing a hiss of pain from the super soldier's dried lips. He growled ever so slightly, hair ruffled and sweat beading across his forehead, a small cut following the line of his cheekbone, and lashed out again, this time with a little less grace, causing the super soldier to stumble. For the first time in god knows how long, Steve felt tired. Like, exhausted level tired. And clearly, Doom was going to use that against him, as Victor pinned him down onto the floor, legs straddling his torso.

Steve knew he was screwed at that point. But, after all, he was about to die at the hands of a worthy opponent, right?

Victor began to bleep, and despite his situation, Steve furrowed his brow in confusion, until he removed his grasp on Steve's shoulders and pulled back the cloak, to reveal wiring which would probably confuse even Tony to some extent, and… Oh fuck. A red flashing light. The beeping and flashing accelerated, and Steve knew he was panicking at this point.

Outside, just above the compound, Tony smirked, rather satisfied with himself. All the positivity was vanquished though when just below him, almost half the compound was blown out by an explosion, and for the first time since the cave, he felt nothing but fear.

* * *

**A/N**

**Doombots - Something our little friend Doctor Doom has created. There are two class types of Doombots: fighting and diplomat. Both kinds are made to look just like him, and believe they are the real Doctor Doom unless they're in Victor's presence. The only reason Steve doesn't realise he is fighting a Doombot is because he's never actually engaged in hand to hand combat with Victor at this point in time before.**

**Fun fact. Ben Grimm is actually an ex-wrestler from before he backed the Thing. Heh. And I've just realised, I know I said this for a different chapter, but it kind of made me go wow at just how fitting 'Fire And Ice' is to this chapter. **

**So, right now, Thor's screwed, Loki's screwed, Steve's screwed (and possibly dead), can't our protagonists catch any breaks? Probably not, I'm evil. Please leave some feedback on what you thought, and thank you to everyone who has done so far!**


	21. Green

Heimdall stood still, his eyes consumed with every scene playing out, the curse of being the all-seeing. The stars reflected off him, as he gazed into the heavens from the broken Bifrost, his brow furrowed as he watched events unfold, his vision clouded to one scenario. His vision was never clouded. He was the all-seeing.

Then a voice rang out, called out to him, a voice he could never forget, and yet it spoke words different to what he'd ever expect to hear. It spoke of pleas, of repenting. It begged, and it begged on the behalf of another, for the grant of a myth, a legend, which only the Allfather had control over. Heimdall abandoned his post, rushing towards the Great Halls of Odin, to seek consultation with the king, to alert him of the situation, the plea. It was beyond the all-seeing one, this request, and it puzzled him.

The doors swung open, and the Allfather looked wearily to Heimdall from his place of resting, atop his throne. After the disappearance of Loki, King Odin rested little, fretting over the possibilities and consequences of the event. That Heimdall could not see nor hear the lost son only caused more worry for the king, as no-one could evade the watch of the all-seeing. It was impossible, or so they had believed.

Heimdall lowered to one knee, dipping his head out of respect, until the Allfather commanded him to rise again, and state his reason for intrusion into the Great Halls, his voice quivering slightly. The king had hid his true emotions well in the face of public, but behind golden doors, he felt no need to hold back. And to hide in the sight of the all-seeing was rather pathetic, and utterly pointless.

"My lord, your son requests supplementary power from Yggdrasil. He claims it is not for his own gain. He speaks truth." King Odin sighed, his heavy eyelids falling down. His hand slipped across his chin, and his body slumped slightly into the throne.

"I shall grant Thor the power, and let him be. Return to your station, all-seeing," he replied, heavy breathing lacing each pause in his speech.

"It is not a request from Thor Odinson, but one from Loki. He referred to you as 'father', my lord." Heimdall bowed and left the halls for his post, leaving behind an outwardly shocked, but inwardly ecstatic Odin Allfather behind, to link his lost son to the roots of the world tree if he dared grant one so treacherous such a powerful source.

* * *

The armour clad figure loomed over him now, a gauntlet wrapping itself in a vice-like grip, jerking him to his feet. Loki hissed, his leg twisting awkwardly as he dragged the broken limb behind him. The other fractured appendages had healed to a point he could bare, but even a fool would not attempt to use a broken leg. He inhaled, trying to collate all the magic that remained within him for one last feat. He could feel it building up, not to a significant extent, as it was severely depleted, but hopefully enough to perform one last spell. To project his voice across the cosmos.

"Heimdall, Allfather, if you can hear me, I beg of you, allow me to draw from the roots of Yggdrasil. I repent my wrong doings, I do this in aid of others. Please, father…" His plea was barely more than a whisper, glancing across at his brother's fallen body as he uttered the last few words, but it was louder than any sound before, his message echoing through both time and space, a cry of help, each word laced with magical intent. His body slumped slightly, raven strands falling forward, as the act drained him thoroughly. He was but a mere mortal now, until his magic returned.

"What a truly exquisite creature you are…" A cool finger ran down his cheek, the metal sliding over his flesh. He shivered slightly as the single finger traced over one his rune markings, supressing the urge to lash out. "It appears that you have been quite devious, haven't you, little Loki? That you have somehow informed your brother and his little friends of your… predicament. Thing is, it's turned to my advantage now…" Victor cast a glance down at Thor, his metal face turning upwards slowly, menacingly. "Thing is, Loki, you will do what I want now, and you won't resist me. I have, as these humans would say, leverage."

"I care not for Thor." Doom laughed, his grip tightening around Loki's arm, and the demi-god knew just how strained his voice had been.

"If you are the liesmith, then I truly feel sorry for your entire culture, for they are fools. But it matters not. I believe there is another you care for." He noticed the reaction: the casting downwards of the gaze, the slight wince, the grimace. Perfect. If there was one thing he had learnt over his years in the criminal underworld, it was that mental warfare was far more effective than physical, and could break someone much quicker, if the weak spots were struck with enough force. Love, for instance, was a brilliant fissure in an otherwise impenetrable shell.

"What do you wish of me, Von Doom?" There was a short puff of air, a deadly silence. Loki had begun to lose faith in the myth of Yggdrasil.

"Your magic."

"I have no magic." It wasn't entirely a lie, yet Von Doom seem unfazed, or rather, twistedly gleeful, at his response.

"Too bad then." The short statements caused something to well up inside the demi-god. Fear. Wait, what? Why was he, the God of Mischief, the liesmith, the destroyer of worlds, fearful? It made no sense, and yet it felt perfectly right. There was a slight chuckle from Victor, and Loki's murky green eyes shot open, as an explosion ricocheted through the compound.

The room flooded bright green light.

* * *

"Steve! Fuck, Steve!" The flames licked at the red and golden suit, rebelliously refusing to part as Tony clawed his way through the rubble. "Thor! Fucking hell, Dummy would have a field day here. When something's finally on fire, he isn't bloody well here!" The blistering heat was beginning to get to him, as he refused to put the shields back up, not until he was fighting again. They'd only waste power, and he didn't need them. Not really.

For someone who had a tendency for not playing well with others, he seemed to care a hell of a lot for them. Maybe it was because Steve still didn't understand the current thinking, and Thor struggled to comprehend the ideology and technology of Midgard. They were, in this century and realm, essentially like children, and he felt ever so guilty for letting them go off alone. And scared. Oh so fucking scared. Steve might be a super soldier, enhanced and all, but he wasn't immortal. He could still get hurt. He could still die. And Thor, he didn't know much about the way Thor worked biologically, only that he healed faster than 'petty mortals'. That didn't mean he couldn't be lying somewhere, dead, all because Tony hadn't have had the sense to go with them. Sure, he wasn't immortal either, but safety in numbers, right? At least, that's what they'd always told him as a child.

He persisted in shouting out their names in vain, despite how unlikely it was that they were even conscious after an explosion of such magnitude. Tony would've put it on par with one of his mid to high class explosives, back when he was still in weapons manufacturing. Back then, the bigger the boom, the better was his mentality, and he certainly lived up to the idea.

Tony glanced around frantically, his eyes only focusing on each spot once, flitting quickly. There had to be something somewhere. Anything. His gaze grazed over royal blue.

Blue. And red. And white.

Tony scrambled over to the shield, lifting it up, dusting it down, glancing around, when he heard a slight cough, and saw the rubble shuffle slightly. His hands clawed away the stone and dirt and metal, pushing them aside as if his life depended on it. Well, not his life. His stomach flipped, the metal mask pulling back, as he found a hand. The sight propelled him onwards, despite the searing heat, almost unbearable, the sweat beading on his forehead. The hand twitched slightly as Tony uncovered more of the battered soldier. It didn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't Thor: the Asgardian was far larger in size.

"Steve? Steve, can you hear me? I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Just hang on, okay. Just, just don't die on me, okay? I'm not going to be responsible for any more deaths, so don't you dare do that to me." The voice was more stammered than the usually arrogant billionaire would've preferred, but it wasn't exactly the most pressing matter at the moment. He'd managed to free the majority of Steve's upper body, and made the decision to try and pull him out, his metal arms gently pulling the super soldier upwards, into his chest. His body fell limp onto Tony, and for a moment, Tony thought he'd been too late, too slow, until Steve began to stir again, the blue eyes falling atop him. He glanced around, fazed and fuzzy, until he looked back towards the billionaire, understanding his eyes.

"Tony… Please tell me no-one kissed me…" Tony couldn't help but let out a laugh at the grin Steve cracked, mimicking the time Tony had been in his place, had stared death in the face. "But seriously, where's Thor?" His voice was slowly picking up to his normal tone, but it still bordered on a whisper, soft and strained.

"I- I don't know. Wasn't he with you?" Steve shook his slightly, pushing himself away from the billionaire with a blush as he realised just how close they were.

"I told him to go off ahead, to go find Loki whilst I dealt with Doom…" Realization spread across Steve's face as he remembered the last few moments, connecting the events in his mind, and suddenly, his face was the picture of fear. "Oh, Tony, oh god this isn't good. I thought I was fighting Doom. Oh god I should've realised. It was a Doombot Tony. Doctor Doom is still somewhere here, and so is Thor. What have I done…" His uncharacteristic rambling went for a moment, but Tony had gathered what information he needed to understand.

"So it was a trap. Fuck fuck fuck I gotta get you out of here," he groaned, a rather hot metal clad hand running through his hair. He noticed Steve start to open his mouth in protest, and stopped him before he could start. "Steve, you look like complete shit. You can barely stand on your own two feet, you've got blood all over you, and I wouldn't be surprised if you got a broken rib or two." JARVIS scanned over Steve's body, feeding back to Tony. "Wait, make that two broken, one fractured. Give me one reason why I shouldn't get you away from here."

Steve looked at him, and suddenly, through the smoke and the flames, and the mist in his mind, it all became very clear. That feeling that had bubbled at the bottom of his stomach, brewing itself, waiting for the right moment to release, had flooded through his body, leaving him determined. Sore, exhausted, but bloody well determined. And it seemed to take over his mind as well, as Steve couldn't stop the word, the one word, falling from his lips, drawing a look of both surprise and understanding from the billionaire genius in front. It just forced its way through pursed, clenched lips, and in just one word, Steve encompassed the reasoning for all his recent actions, all his emotions since seeing the raven-haired demi-god.

"Love."

"Fuck you. Don't lag behind, Capsicle." In the depths of his mind, Tony had always had an inkling as to why Steve had agreed so willingly to accompany Thor, or why he'd spent so much time in the God of Mischief's room during his brief (and fake) stay with them. And Tony hadn't the heart to stop him: if Bruce was in danger, he'd be exactly the same, martyring on until his final breath. Bloody hell, what had love turned him in to?

* * *

Sweet heavens, there wasn't a word quite to describe how he felt. It surged through him, stronger than ever before, and it felt so damn wonderful! He felt weightless, bathing in his own power, fingers twitching, a rather sick smile on his face. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and Victor Von Doom had certainly helped there. Unparalleled power, a desire for vengeance and an emotionally unstable young Jotun. What a wonderfully chaotic potion.

Von Doom hissed as the blinding light died down, daring to look through the dulled silver slits in his metal façade. Loki hung in the air, bathed in an ethereal green light, and his eyes opened in an instant. The red iris was gone, the pupil gone, replaced by green, and they glared straight through Von Doom, tearing him apart inside. He twisted a hand, jerking the dictator upwards by his cape, and pulled him towards himself, until his flushed green eyes bore straight through Von Doom. Never had Victor felt quite so violated, despite Loki having not laid a finger upon him, as it felt as if the demi-god could see everything: his soul, his memories, his emotions, absolutely everything, and there was nothing to do to stop him. He felt pathetic, and completely humiliated. And utterly confused as to how the situation that he had dominated only moments ago had flipped, leaving the Jotun in control. He smiled a twistedly innocent grin, blue lips pulling back to show his teeth, and it was rather frightening, as the demi-god acted as if the power had possessed him, the pure green eyes most terrifying of all.

"What are you?" He mumbled, a question he'd intended to be challenging so he could reclaim some of his dominating status in the situation. Instead, it came out more like a plea. Loki laughed, his nose scrunching up slightly, then focused his glare back on Von Doom, who would've fidgeted if possible, but found it impossible, appearingly frozen in place. Fantastic.

"Who am I, pathetic mortal? I am Loki Odinson, and Loki Laufeyson. I am Loki of Asgard, and Loki of Jotuhnheim. I am the God of Mischief, and the Liesmith, the heir to the Asgardian throne and the Jotun throne. I am father to Hela, goddess of the underworld, Fenrir, the sun eater, Jormungandr, the world eater, and Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse. I am Silvertongue, I am a murderer. I am everything you could want me to be, I am your darkest nightmare. I am known by many names, each striking fear in the heart of many. And I am, as you mortals would say, in love." The last statement was hissed through clenched teeth, a dangerous growl cutting through his ice cold throat. He felt a shift in his bones as his leg forced itself back into shape, the bone grafting itself back together. The cuts scattered across his body healed, the skin knitting itself together, and Victor Von Doom watched in both horror and awe as the grotesque passing occurred, the skin twisting and moving itself across his face and chest. "Have you ever, Victor Von Doom, been in contact with a Frost Giant? I've been reliably informed it is not a pleasant experience. I watched as a brave warrior and a good friend had half the skin on his arm burnt off due to how cold we are, after mere seconds. I would love to conduct an experiment, Von Doom, and it would pleasure me greatly if you volunteered to help me." His mind was completely dominated by power and revenge, corrupted by sick desires, and he flicked his fingers, forcing an involuntary "Of course" from the crazed dictator's lips.

"Perfect," was all he uttered, as a blue hand, still shrouded in the ethereal green glow, reached out, his body twisting around till he was almost parallel with the floor. He kicked one foot up in the air, a grin on his lips as Von Doom realised just where the hand was reaching for. Long, bony fingers, riddled with rune markings, wrapped themselves around the dictator's neck, the metal panels becoming frozen almost instantly. Within seconds, a shrill scream echoed throughout the burning compound. "Feel my pain, Victor. Feel everything you have ever inflicted on me, everything Thanos has ever inflicted on me. Suffer with me Victor, for you just killed part of me."

* * *

"Tony. Did you, hear that?" Steve's voice was wearing thin, his breath coming out in pants as he ran beside the scientist, the flames licking at his legs, stinging like hell. He refused to stop though. No, stopping was never an option, not in this occupation anyway. Being a hero was all consuming, and though the first few times of being the good guy who saves the day were emotionally rewarding, it grew less gratifying as time passed, less of a voluntary thing, more of a chore, as much as he hated to admit it.

"You're not imagining it Steve. Just ahead I think, and I'd rather we hurry. It doesn't sound like Thor, but you know, if our lovely Asgardian hair advert got a hold of Von Doom, I actually feel kind of sorry for the guy. He's as good as dead." The screaming seemed to intensify, until it cut off completely, and Tony lifted is arm, pointing in front of him. "Fuck, right, no joking. What if, you know, Thor's not there…" He earned himself a panicked glare from Steve, and grimaced slightly at his own thought. "I think it's coming from there. You see it? The glowy doorway-thing just ahead." Steve certainly saw it. How the hell did Tony expect him to miss to glowing doorway? Nevertheless, his legs pushed harder than before despite the burning, which was more from how much he'd been exerting himself than the fire.

The temperature fell the closer they got, the magnitude of the flames rapidly decreasing, and Tony reached the doorway first, stopping dead in flight, landing flat on his feet with a thud. Another metallic thump rang out just before Steve had swerved round the corner of the broken doorway. And he, like Tony, stopped still, wincing from the glow, his head tilting slightly, trying to wrap his head around what he say.

Closest to them, Thor slumped across the floor, unconscious but breathing, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly, his skin losing colour. On the back of his head, his hair was matted with dried blood. A swift blow to the head to render him unconscious, nothing more. Mjolnir lay beside him, his fingers relaxed around the handle, as if even in such a state, he was prepared to fight.

Victor Von Doom lay limp, his armour frosted over, a hand mark dented into the plating around his neck. The small amounts of flesh showing had blackened, burnt apparently from extreme cold. His cape spread out behind him, one leg twisted into a rather awkward and painful position, and his were shut, a gathering of ice around his eyes where the beginnings of tears had frozen over.

And then Steve dared look up to the glowing figure, asphyxiated by the sheer beauty of it. The blue skin looked so, so touchable underneath the green hue, and an overwhelming desire urged him to trace the rune markings across its chest. Tattered trousers hung off its hips, clearly too large, but the rest of its body was bare. Black hair, messy and long, hung down to its shoulders, uncut and uncared for. He finally looked into its eyes, mesmerised by the flushed green eyes, murky and swarming with emotion, and… growing bigger?

He realised whatever it was had lifted him, as pressure on his feet was relieved, and his torso, aching from the apparent breakages, snapped back into its original internal form. The wisps of light tickled his skin, pulling him forward until he hung in front of the creature, which seemed to be studying him. And up close, it looked almost like… Loki…

"You're alive, human." Steve let out a breath, his eyes lighting up as the familiar voice spoke out, so beautifully deep and husky, and the super soldier could've swore he heard a hint of glee in the usually bitter voice. "I thought you dead."

"I'm not dead. Only just, though, thank Tony for that." The demi-god glanced over Steve to the billionaire, who stood, apparently now slightly more relaxed, propping himself against the broken door frame.

"I owe you my thanks then, Stark. Why did you not leave though, upon the Iron Man's arrival?" It was lass of a question, and more of a statement of disdain.

"I think you know quite well why, Loki. Love." The demi-god smiled slightly, his lips fading back into their normal hue of pinkish red. His fingertips changed back fleshy pale, a metamorphism which ran down his hand. He glanced back up at Steve, and grabbed a tuft of blonde hair, pulling the human's head into his, colliding their lips together.

Steve wrapped his arms around the demi-god, his skin morphing back pale, touchable for Steve, until he couldn't have looked more human, nor more distant from his Jotun form. The super soldier's hand snaked its way through black hair, grasping onto strands, pulling back slightly. He couldn't care less if he'd been raised to see homosexuality as wrong. Someone might scold him later, tell him how unnatural it was, but this moment, this one moment taught that love was love, no matter who it was between. Loki wrapped his other arm around Steve's waist, and pushed his lips down harder on to the super soldiers, blocking out the outside world to the point where neither noticed when their feet touched the floor, or when they hit a wall, Loki pressing against Steve in their passionate embrace. It wasn't perfect, but perfect was cliché, and there had been far too much of that lately, and so in its own little way, it was a close to perfect as non-perfect could be. That was, until Tony interrupted after much deliberation.

"Look, I know you guys are all desperate for sex and lusting after each other, well, I would be at least, but could you save it for the bedroom? Not that I have anything against it, heck, I support all love, but we've kind of got a big oaf of thunder to deal with, you know?" Tony felt a little awkward when both the bare chested Jotun and the torn-top super soldier glared at him, with glares that would've made Natasha proud.

* * *

**A/N  
Um, yeah, long chapter. I'm crap at writing romance, as you can tell, so I do apologise! All of Loki's children that I mentioned are actually Loki's children. Sleipnir even had a few second cameo in Thor!**

**Thank you all for all the support, I can't thank you enough, but just know, this story is not over yet! Thank you again!**


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